#that was a milestone in my teenage life. i wish i was joking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nxrthmizu · 3 years

Note

CADYYYYYY I FLY HERE after seeing your milestone event!!! Congratulations on your achievement, you deserve the world!!! ❤️

So to hop on to this event and celebrate with you, may I request for a special one:

Iwaizumi + 70,000 miles away?? 👀

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pairing | iwaizumi hajime x reader

w.c | 1.3k

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mornings for the general married couple consists of whispered 'mornin's, hushed breaths, and knowing that there'll be a warmth on the other side of the bed for the days to come. in the words of your mother, who was one of the few lucky ones to find happiness in an arranged marriage— 'there is nothing more beautiful than waking up beside a soul who'll give up the world for you'.

years of living with your parents has given you an insight on the marriage you want to live with til' your hair becomes snowy white. as a kid, you would wake up on the weekends to the delighted giggles of your mother as your father envelops her in his embrace, commenting on the sweet aroma of the two-in-one coffee she's brewing.

"you make the best coffee," your father would say affectionately, pressing a kiss on your mother's cheek as your 'ew' echoes around the kitchen.

"it's instant coffee, dear," your mother rolls her eyes good-naturedly, playfully shoving him off. "anyone can make it."

"it's different!" protests your father indignantly, as if he's prepared to defend his opinion with his life. "your coffee is unique. it's brewed with your love."

at this, your mother turns away to look at you, shaking her head. "your father is an idiot." there is no bite in her words, however, because she looks completely enamoured by the man who is dramatically sipping his instant coffee, swirling it in the Darlie mug that came with buying two tubes of toothpaste.

your mornings aren't quite like that, however. your mother wakes to her husband peppering kisses on the back of her neck; you wake to a void beside you and a ding! of your phone.

[hajime] 6.47am

good morning, darling.

did you sleep well?

the slumber in your eyes makes you want to feel annoyed— but the words on the screen coax it out of you, leaving you with a buzzing warmth in your chest. there is no husband enveloping you with his body heat, but there is a husband across the phone screen, making his best out of the situation. it's honestly amazing— even 70,000 miles away, hajime can induce a lukewarm flush in your heart.

his seven words might not seem like much, but you know better. he texts you at exactly 6.47 in the morning— two minutes after your alarm goes off, which gives you sufficient time to roll around after you wake.

there’s no way you can resist the smile dancing across your lips when your phone rings. ‘you have an incoming call’, your phone says in hajime’s voice, and you let the call go unanswered for a moment longer just to hear your husband try his best not to burst into laughter as he repeats the phrase. eventually, you slide your finger towards the green ‘receive’, pressing the speaker to your ear as you flop back onto the mattress.

“good morning, sleepyhead.” his voice soothes you like a warm cup of mushroom soup, distributing a comfort you didn’t know you missed throughout your vessels and organs. “did you sleep well?”

“yeah.” you mumble, feeling like a naive teenager living their first love when your heart performs five cartwheels in a row. for a moment, you consider signing your cardiac muscle up for the circus. “i missed you.”

his laugh crackles through your speaker. “me too, darlin’. just a couple more weeks. hang on until then, alright?”

“have you eaten yet?” you ask, doing a quick mental calculation to figure out what time it is where he’s at. just about time for dinner.

“yeah. instant noodles and microwavable dumplings from the convenience store. i’m best friends with the owner now,” he jokes, “i’m there every other night. i’ve tried out just about every food they have in there.”

a frown crosses your lips. “when you get back, i’ll make all your favourites.” you declare, upset that your husband has to resort to eating cheap konbini foods. he’s doing his best from day-to-night, working his ass off to train that overseas volleyball team, giving his all to beat them into shape before the season starts. by the time he finishes work, he’s too tired to cook anything than microwavable dumplings. you’re starting to semi-wish that you went with him so he at least has decent food to eat. “i’ll make tofu and that udon you love.”

“i’m looking forward to it.” hajime replies fondly before a robotic ding! goes off. “oh. my dumplings are done.” the line carries over footsteps, muffled by a pair of slippers, the hollow noise of colliding plates and the beeping of an annoying microwave that you feel like strangling.

when you close your eyes, you can imagine your husband, phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder as he shuffles across his room, popping the microwave open and waving the steam away. he plates his dumplings with ease, picking the plate up with one hand as he holds his phone with the other.

“alright, i’m back.” hajime lets you know, setting down his utensils on the plate. the sharp noises make you wince, but you don’t complain. “you should probably start getting ready for work.”

“hmm.” you hum in reply, feeling reluctant.

“i’ll call you again before you go to bed,” chuckles hajime, shoving a dumpling into his mouth. “and then i’ll call you tomorrow morning, and tomorrow night, and... what’s the word for the day after tomorrow?” the call blurbs out clicks and clacks as hajime picks up his phone, leaving the call screen to search up the word.

“i get it, i get it. it’s fine.” you hastily stop him before he actually googles it. “i just... miss you a lot lately. that’s all.”

he goes silent for a bit, and the insecurities seeded deep down inside you start to grow their roots. what if hajime starts finding you clingy and annoying?

“i miss you too. more than i want to admit,” hajime confesses softly, sounding slightly vulnerable. “sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night and i want to talk to you, but then i turn around and—” he cuts himself off, sighing. “i want to call you, but you’re at work and i don’t want to disturb you.”

you know him well enough to know that he’s pursing his lips, and the image of your husband pouting to himself makes a giggle erupt.

“hey, i’m trying to have a sentimental moment here.”

“oh, i know, i know. i’m sorry. it’s just— i suddenly imagined you pouting and i couldn’t help it. you’re adorable.” you explain, holding back the stragglers of laughter. “and hajime— you can text me when i’m at work. or you could call.”

“yeah.” hajime sighs. “i hate not being able to talk to you face to face, though.”

“me too, love.” you reply, smiling softly to yourself. “but you said it just now, right? a couple more weeks and we’ll see each other again. just hang on till then.”

“hmm.”

“i should go get ready for work now.”

“yeah, you should.” hajime’s words and thoughts can be quite conflicting sometimes, because even though his words are agreeing with you, his tone states that he doesn’t want you to go.

“the word for the day after tomorrow is overmorrow, by the way.”

“oh! right.”

“enjoy your dumplings and noodles.”

“i will.”

“and sleep early.”

“yes yes.”

“and remember that you can text me even if i’m at work.”

“mm.”

“remember that i love you.”

“i love you too.”

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if i’m being honest this prompt was kind of personal cause... well there’s this guy who i (kind of) dated back in high school but he moved like. half the globe away and uh... yeah. i still text him from time to time cuz we’re still friends :P

haikyuu!! gen taglist: @haru-senji @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours @knmiakira @rirk-ke @cemeiia @animegirlweeb @mitzwinchester @haikyuushuffle

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Milestone Event: Requests Open!

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime fluff #iwaizumi hajime x y/n #iwaizumi hajime x you #[ris writes]—✧

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madame-mozart · 3 years

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200th post! 🎉

In honor of this milestone, I think it’s time I introduce you to all the godawful Mary Sue “Miss Perfect-and-can-do-no-wrong” characters I’ve had since I was quite young. Keep in mind, I’ve been making OCs since I was like four years old (and back before I even knew what an “OC” was) and I might just have more bad characters I haven’t discovered yet or have long forgotten.

Left to right are Franziska, Pandora, Jackie, Florence, Charlotte, Becky, Lucy, Marie-Anne, and Christianne!

More about them below the cut! :)

Franziska Scheinberg’s information is mostly in this post, but in short, she was a character created around 2015 that was supposed to be an “improved” self-insert/dream persona who was ironically bland and snowflake as all hell. She thinks she’s totally ✨ speeeeeeeecial ✨ because she cut her hair and dyed it blonde, and she also has like four different heritages. Super unique, right? 😂

Pandora Mae Autumnsong is a character created probably around late 2015 - early 2017 whose personality traits can literally just be summed up to “poor neglected and bullied girl who deserved better dies tragically and now wants revenge on those who wronged her”. Yeah, reeeeeeeeeeeally clichéd and nothing very special. Pretty sure she’s also a knockoff of the My Little Pony character Fluttershy as well, considering she’s supposed to be shy and speaks in a soft, whispery voice. Also, that goddamn name - can I get a “SNOWFLAKE” in the chat?

Jackie Frost, ugghhhhhhhhh, this one. She was literally just supposed to be a female version of Jack Frost from that 2012 “Rise of the Guardians” film. Well, technically, she was either supposed to be his younger sister or his daughter, I couldn’t make up my mind for some reason. Also, the fact that everyone and their mom was obsessed with Jack Frost back in the day, lmaooooo.

Florence Donatelli Monticello was a character created in 2013 who was essentially supposed to be the teenage girl version of the archetypal “Renaissance Man”; you know, multi-talented in a variety of subjects and jack of all trades. She’s a strong and independent girl who doesn’t take no for an answer and will do anything it takes to defy societal rules and do what she does best: messing around in her dead father’s workshop and building things that I’m sure Leonardo Da Vinci has already beaten her to. Her biggest enemy in life was apparently her older sister, Liza, who pretty much existed just to look down on her and make sure she acted like the proper young lady she was supposed to be.

Charlotte Li, probably my most notorious self-insert and all around awful Mary Sue, has also previously been discussed in this post. She was first created in around 2011 and was basically the embodiment of the “not like the other girls” trope, thinking she was so special and unique just because she listened to classical music. She was often plugged as a “girlfriend” of sorts for Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, the composer. I wish I was joking.

Becky Willow is probably the only Sue whom I’m not sure when I exactly created her, though I think I’d pinpoint this around the late 2000s/early 2010s as she was literally just supposed to be based one of the handful of Barbie dolls I had back in the day. She was the epitome of a popular teenage girl who’s so extremely helpful and kind that everyone (and I mean everyone) just gravitates towards her for some reason. She comes from an interesting family to say the least (I might get into them in a different post) and is even a leader of some kind of Girl Scouts/science camp-type of organization. Again, I don’t know what I was thinking with that snowflake-sounding name.

Lucy was created around late 2013 and was supposed to be my earliest attempt at a “scary” Creepypasta-type character. Yeah, I had that phase too. Of course, she was clichéd as all heck as well, being a poor, once innocent girl who was thrown into an asylum for whatever reason, abused, and turned insane and killed everyone, something something. I vaguely remember basing her appearance off of Alice in that “Madness Returns” game; plus, her name was basically taken from an Elfen Lied character (as I was weirdly obsessed with that anime back in the day as well).

Lastly, Marie-Anne Emanuelle-Cendrillon LaChapelle and Christianne Emeline-Aurore LaChapelle (HOLY LONG NAMES, BATMAN) were French twins created around late 2015 and... well, that’s literally their personalities: they’re French. That’s it. And they want everyone to know it! They sort of had a little color coding going on, with Marie-Anne’s signature color being blue and Christianne’s being pink. Christianne was the more uptight of the two while Marie-Anne was kinder, and they were part of a truckload of extracurricular activities despite only being high school freshmen. BLAAAAAAAAAAND.

I just remembered I had another Sue named Iris Nephele-Tempestas, who was arguably more of a Fluttershy knockoff than Pandora and had (overpowered) elemental abilities, though Kisekae only lets you make nine characters at a time, so maybe next time, she’ll make an appearance. Ah, the Mary Sue pantheon never stops growing, does it?

#maddy's milestones #kisekae #kisekae 2 #doll maker #my characters #not my art #maddyverse: franziska #maddyverse: jackie #maddyverse: florence #maddyverse: charlotte #mary sues #mary sue oc #ocs #original characters #maddyverse: becky #maddyverse: lucy #maddyverse: lachapelle twins #maddyverse: pandora

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rotten-games · 3 years

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How would the ROTT and COI ROs react to seeing pictures (or paintings I guess for the ROTT ROs??) of the MC as a baby/kid?

It's a mystery 🤔

Due to mc only showing up at Blackhearth a bit older, it would be an 8 year old child picture.

RotT

Ardwen: Tease you mercilessly.

Arke: Well, considering he's seen you as a younger chikd I can't imagine he'd be particularly surprised by a slightly younger mc. He might tease you a little about being more babyfaced then?

Bex: He'd fawn over you. "You were so cute back then!" Sort of deal.

Cal: "Oh, so you really were cute, once."

Druvel: "I think I much prefer you like this, thanks." He'd shrug.

Emil: He'd look between you and the photo with a pout. "No fair!" He'd mutter, "You looked cute as a child, I look like a lump of wrinkles!" And then he'd proceed to show you his baby pictures.

Ettia: "I've seen it before. Never hurts to see it again." You know. Like a God.

Gwyn: "I've seen it before." It's a lie. He's never seen this child before in his life.

Herron: He'd feel awkward just looking at your baby pictures so he'd dig some of his own up a few weeks later. The only problem? They'd all be pictures of a teenage Herron rather than a baby one, he never really thought to grab baby paintings when he left home.

Keller: "I'm not familiar with this," She'd admit, "I don't think I have any pictures of myself except maybe... hmm. Maybe if I ever return home I can show you."

Korrin: "Ah, yes, baby pictures. A milestone in all relationships." They'd grin at you knowingly. "Wish I had some of my own, but they all burned in a mysterious fire. No one ever caught the culprit."

Lokeira: "Why are you showing me this, I like you as you are." Then he'd proceed to climb into your lap, hesitating, "Wait. You don't want a child, do you?"

Let's say his family wasn't familiar with the concept of baby pictures.

Necrolym: "Well," He'd joke, "You've certainly done a lot of growing since then."

Nox: "Ew," She'd joke. Kind of.

Qora: She'd hesitate, "Are... are you trying to hint at something?" You aren't, but she suggests adopting a cat or something a few weeks later.

Severa: "You're not suggesting we adopt a kid, are you?"

Spotter: another one who'd fawn over you.

CoI

Allard: "Cute. But I happen to like the current you." For non-romantic reasons, obviously.

Carol: She'd roll her eyes but happily look through all the photos with you. You know, like a normal person.

Doc: She'd glance at you, offer you a small smile, and put aside her things. "As much as I'd like to share my own, well. Best not."

Lowrie: They'd pull a face, purely in jest, then scoot closer and throw in a few photos of their own.

Harley: They'll pass you a drink of your choice (water if non-alcoholic), sit down, and laugh at ugly baby photos with you.

Ridley: "Oh, a child." They pause, "Oh, YOU as a child. Cute."

Mordred: He has most definitely seen those pictures before partially because mc2 probably showed them lmao. Regardless, he is gonna give you shit about it.

Arthur: One brow raises, "You telling me something here?"

Adrastea: "That is the single ugliest creature I've ever seen--oh, it's you?" They find a wry smile, "Not much has changed, then."

Perci: "I was a child once," She says completely deadpan before shooting you a grin, "And I'm still cute as shit. You on the other hand..."

Deimos: "What is that, can I eat it?" He's joking. Probably.

Dagda: Hell yeah they're looking at baby photos of you! Expect much squealing.

Saga: "Ew," They say, completely genuinely. They pause, glance at you, "This isn't your way of saying you want a kid, is it?"

#rott game #coi game #ros

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libraryofloveletters · 4 years

Text

Love Story

You’ve been in love with your best friend since the day you met him. How long does it take him to realize that?

Luke Alvez x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of divorce, alcohol and some kissing

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: First Luke fic!! hope y'all like it :)

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12 years old.

That's how old you were when you met the love of your life.

It was September 13th and it was chilly outside, you were walking home for school and you stopped to zip up your sweater. Usually your mom picks you up from school but she had to work late that day. 4 boys came running down the street towards you. “Isn't it little miss no daddy?”

They always did this, every. single. day. Your father had left your mother for his young secretary, it was so cliche but it was true. Everyone knew, he paraded her around town like he hadn’t just walked out on you and your mother. From that day on, you kept to yourself at school and came straight home afterwards. You didn't have many friends, but not like anyone wanted to be your friend anyways.

Ignoring them, you continued walking, hoping that your legs would carry you fast enough. “Leave her alone!” and the sound of a punch caught your attention. That’s when you first laid eyes on him, standing there in a green sweater and black sweatpants, he walked over to you. His hair was curly and brown, his eyes were a beautiful shade of brown almost mocha like and they had this look, one that gave you butterflies in your stomach.

“I’m sorry about that, they’re so annoying” you stood there in shock. He looked like the popular kids, you wondered why was he talking to you? He waved his hand in front of your face “helloooo? anyone there?” he chuckled “Thank you” was all you could say

“I’m Luke”

“I’m y/n”

Luke walked you home that day, and everyday on from then. On the walk home, you discovered that Luke lived right down the street from you and that he was a year older than you. You thanked him again for standing up for you and for walking you home. He assured you that he didn't mind and asked if you wanted to walk to school together the next day.

By that summer, you and Luke were attached at the hip. He quickly became your friend, your best friend. He met your mother and she loved him like a son. She was so glad that you were making friends. Luke had invited you over for dinner that night, introducing you to his parents, who felt the same way about you as your mother did about Luke.

16 years old.

That’s how old you were when you realized you loved him.

Luke’s parents were out of town for the weekend, leaving the house all to Luke. Instead of throwing a party like a regular teenager, he invited you over for your monthly movie night. This was regular occurrence, it happened at your house mostly because your mom worked late and the two of you could watch without any interruptions but every once in a while, you’d have them at Luke’s place.

The clock read 11:05pm and Luke begged you to spend the night with him, claiming that he didn’t want any ghosts to come for him. You warned him that watching a scary movie wasn’t a good idea but you gave in. Calling your mom and tell her you’ll be staying with Luke tonight, she told you to be safe and tell Luke hello for her. Luke headed to the kitchen and you headed up to his room to borrow something to wear for the night. You pulled off your sweater and put on his soccer jersey, it read Alvez and the numbers 07 on the back. Your back was to the door when you bent over to pull off your jeans.

“All that just for me?” He joked, his voice startling you.

“Oh my god Luke! no” You shook your head and sat on his bed.

He laughed and sat beside you, two beers in his hand. He handed you one and knocked his bottle against yours. You smiled at him as you took a sip. “So, no pants tonight?” he shifted on the bed looking at you “as long as you don't mind, it’s so hot in here” The air conditioning had broken and his dad didn't fix it yet, leaving the two of you in the hot summer heat. “Oh I never mind” he squeezed your thigh, playfully. His touch always left butterflies in your stomach

You and Luke always had a very playfully friendship, but he was there when you needed him as you were for him. He was there for you when you got your appendix out, you were there when he cried about a bird flying into the window after getting his wisdom teeth out, he was there when you cried over your father leaving you and never looking back, you were there when he didn't know where else to go after coming home drunk. You both love joking around and acting like you were together when you weren’t. It hurt your heart to know what you could be but weren’t. You always hugged each other like it was going to be the last time you'd see the other.

You and Luke were now laying on his bed beside each other, looking up at his ceiling. His hand rested on your thigh and your arm was flung over his chest, somewhere between laughing and drinking, his shirt had disappeared as well. You turned on your side, looking at him, he slipped his arm under you wrapping itself around your waist. Your leg was now on top on him and your head was on his chest. He wasn’t fully asleep but his eyes were closed. The moonlight slipped through the cracks in his curtains, his eyelashes fluttered against his skin, his hair dishevelled. Your hand reached up, resting on his jaw as your thumb rubbing his cheek softly. He shifted his head slightly, kissing your palm.

“Goodnight y/n”

Goodnight Luke”

18 years old.

That's how old you were when Luke left.

Luke left home the year after he graduated. He was 19 and you were 18. You remember the day he told you he enlisted, your heart dropped to your stomach. It was only basic training, he promised you that he’d be home in a few months. He returned home with the news that he was being stationed in Iraq. Your heart dropped once again. Everything began running through your mind, what if you never saw him again ? what if he dies? what if he comes home a different person? what if he forgets you? You forced yourself to stop thinking like that when truthfully, you were heartbroken.

The morning before he left, you woke up at 6 and the two of you went for breakfast. You sat in your car, watching the sun rise together, one last time before he left, unsure if you’d get to see him again after this. He held your hand the entire time, you never wanted him to let go. You headed home with him, doubling checking he had everything. He stood on his front lawn with his parents, hugging them goodbye, he was trying his hardest not to cry. You hugged him goodbye and wished him well. You watched as he and his father pulled out of the driveway, standing there hugging his mom who was crying. you watched until you couldn't see the car anymore, praying that he comes home safely.

22 years old.

That’s how old you were when Luke came home.

You stood in the airport with his parents, watching as all the soldiers reunited with their families. Luke came into sight, he started running towards his mother giving her a big hug. She started crying and you couldn't help but smile at the two of them.

After saying hello to his parents, he came over to you, he picked you up and spun you around while hugging you. He put you down, the two of you stood there, arms wrapped around each other with no intention of letting go. Pulling away slightly, you looked at him taking in that he was standing in front of you again. He kissed your forehead, pulling you closer to him.

“I missed you so much” you mumbled, face in his chest

“I missed you so much, you don't even understand”

23 years old

That’s how old you were when Luke kissed you for the first time.

“Do you really have to go?” You sat on his bed folding a pile of t-shirts, he sighed at your question. “Yes I do, the F.B.I offered me a position has a head hunter, do you know how lucky I am to get that?” you put the shirts in the box, listening to him ramble about how great the job is going to be. You helped him carry the boxes down to his car. He had furnished his apartment right after he bought it. The two of you had spent the past few months driving back and forth to D.C to get his apartment ready.

He was ready to head out and you found yourself in the some position you did when he left for Iraq. You watched as he said hugged his parents goodbye, trying his hardest to pull away from his crying mother because she didn't want to let him go. He walked over to you and pulled you into a hug.

“I don't want you to go” you looked at him hoping he’ll change his mind and stay.

“I have to go, you know this”

His parents stepped past the two of you, saying that they would be back in a few minutes with something for him. The two of you stood there, in each other’s arms, his hands cupping your faces and your arms wrapped around his waist. He leaned down and kissed you. You kissed him back.

You couldn't believe it was finally happening. Pulling away breathlessly, he pulled you back into a hug, your face in his chest. His parents came back out with a huge photo frame. There were moments from your life together, a picture of your first playdate that your mom had taken, pictures from your prom and high school graduation, a picture of the 4 of you the day he left for Iraq and the day he came back, as well as one of the 2 of you cuddled on the couch asleep.

25 years old.

That’s how old you were when you moved to D.C and confessed your love

He knocked on your door, standing outside with a bottle of champagne and pizza. A little tradition of yours, you’d do it whenever either of you had a milestone. You did it when he bought his apartment, only fitting he did it with you. “Who is it?” you called out from the other side of the door “it’s me!” You opened the door, pulling him into a hug. He shut the door and came in placing the box and bottle on your coffee table. You walked to the kitchen to get two glasses, only to realize it’s too high up for you to reach. It was like Luke had read your mind, hearing his footsteps approach the kitchen.

“Is that my jersey?” he stood there looking at you.

You didn't even notice that you had taken it home with you after you slept over and never returned it.

“Does it have your name on it?” you questioned him sarcastically. He laughed, shaking his head. “I thought I lost that, but here you are wearing it 9 years later”

“Anyways can you reach the glasses ?” you jumped to show him that you couldn't reach it, the jersey lifting as you jumped. “Still no pants huh? it’s like we’re teenagers again” he laughed. You looked down to see that he was right, you had just gotten out the shower when he knocked on the door, not realizing you opened the door without pants. He took two glasses down and the two of you headed to the living room.

Half a box of pizza and a whole bottle of champagne later, you and Luke were cuddled up on your couch. His arm was around your shoulder and your head was on his shoulder.

“I love you”

“I love you too Luke” this was something you had been telling each other since you were young, you didn't think much of it.

“No, I mean it. I’m in love with you, I always have been. I don't know why it took me so long to tell you but I love you”

You sat there, you knew how you felt but you weren't sure how you could put it into words. “This is stupid, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything” he stood up as did you.

“It’s not stupid. I love you. I always have. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me. You stood up for me, that's something no one had ever done for me. My heart broke when you left for training, my heart broke when you left for Iraq. I didn't know what I would do if I lose you. You came home and left me again to come to D.C and I was happy for you. I really was but it hurt me to see you leave again. God why do you think I took the job here? I couldn't stand being away from you anymore.” you confessed everything to him.

27 years old.

That’s how old you were when you married your best friend.

After your late night confessions 2 years ago, you and Luke began dating.

Today was September 13th and you’re getting married to the love of your life today. It was only fitting you got married the same day you met. Today was much like the day you had met Luke, it was chilly outside and the leaves on the trees were different shades of orange, yellow and brown.

You and Luke stood at the alter smiling at each other, hand in hand.

“I do” he slipped the ring onto your finger

“I do” you mirrored his actions.

“I pronunce you man and wife, you may kiss your bride” Luke didn't hesitate to pull you in for a kiss.

And just like that, another chapter to your love story has come to an end.

#luke alvez #ssa luke alvez #luke alvez x you #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x y/n #luke alvez smut #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez one shot #cm #cm onehsot #cm imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds oneshot

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anhed-nia · 4 years

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BLOGTOBER 10/4/2020: SOCIETY

Without having a survey to back me up, I feel comfortable asserting that as a horror fan, you go through different phases with SOCIETY. It’s a basic fact of life, and yet it morphs and mutates underneath you, shocking you anew just when you think you’ve got a grip on it. You never forget your first time, because there is simply nothing like it. Then, after you get over the initial shock of its patented brand of body horror, you start to take it for granted; it's so broad and monolithic that it becomes something like the Grand Canyon--when it’s not right there in front of you, you begin to experience it more iconically, as part of the wallpaper of existence, rather than an in-your-face confrontation with the limits of experience. Then, you revisit it every few years (or months, depending on what sort of person you are), and the prophylactic layer that your brain has wrapped around your memories of it--the one that allows you to think of SOCIETY as a fun, wacky cheap thrill--begins to crumble, and you realize all over again how iconoclastically vile it is. Wherever you happen to be at, with this inimitable genre landmark, you'd be hard pressed to deny that it earns its royal status among horror movies, just for being so uniquely fucked up.

Filmmaker Brian Yuzna is best known as the co-creator of the indispensable RE-ANIMATOR (or as the co-writer of HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS...depending on what sort of person you are, again), itself a milestone achievement in the blending of sex and gore that so characterized '80s horror production. That film clearly brought out the best in Yuzna and frequent collaborator Stuart Gordon (also of HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS fame...among other things), but it's interesting to see how they operate apart, to understand the unique ingredients that each filmmaker brought to the more perfect union of their classic Lovecraft adaptation. Gordon skewed darker and more intellectual, as evidenced by the end of his career with the shattering mob thriller KING OF THE ANTS, the disturbing true crime drama STUCK, and the Mamet-penned EDMOND. Yuzna, for his part, is almost anti-intellectual, preferring to cook up blackly comic, semi-pornographic nightmares like his two increasingly horny RE-ANIMATOR sequels, the terminal S&M fantasy RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD 3, and the shamelessly hokey comic book adaptation FAUST: LOVE OF THE DAMNED. Yuzna's lack of shame is really his defining feature as an artist, and nowhere is this more obvious than in his directorial debut and signature masterpiece, SOCIETY.

Salvador Dali's "The Great Masturbator," a chief visual inspiration for SOCIETY.

Yuzna was able to leverage the success of RE-ANIMATOR to lock in two directorial opportunities, BRIDE OF RE-ANIMATOR, and a bizarre body horror exercise about a Beverly Hills orphan who discovers that not only are his adoptive family from a different bloodline, but they're not even from the same species. That both pictures employed the writing team of Woody Keith and Rick Fry gives you a little taste of what to expect from SOCIETY, but to be frank, the latter threatens to make the former look like a very special episode of ER; "overkill" barely begins to describe SOCIETY’s ambitious assault on the human body. In a recent interview, the philipino-american director giggles perversely, "I think my friends were a little embarrassed for me (when they saw SOCIETY)," and this sound bite reminded me that the last, most important ingredient that Yuzna contributes to any project is unabashed joy. It's a little hard to imagine stomaching SOCIETY without it.

In this unusual scene from the class struggle in Beverly Hills, Billy Warlock (son of HALLOWEEN 2's Michael Myers, Dick Warlock) plays Bill Whitney, a rich, handsome, athletic high school student with a heavy duty anxiety disorder. Although he appears to have it all, he is plagued by nightmares and hallucinations, reflecting suspicions that the family that spoils him is also out to get him. Perhaps this is all understandable, though. Bill is under a lot of pressure these days, with his parents devoting all of their attention to his sister's coming out party, and his narcissistic girlfriend pushing him to ingratiate himself to the assholes higher up the social ladder; it's enough to make any teenager feel alienated and insecure. But, do these garden variety anxieties account for his visions of his sister's body deforming itself unnaturally, or the dubious evidence he finds that her debutante ball involves incestuous orgies and human sacrifice? Is Bill simply crumbling under the strain of societal expectations, or is the friction with his shrink, his parents, and his peers all symptomatic of an elaborate plot against him by elites who are truly less than human?

I can’t believe they use this cheapo blanket trick MORE THAN ONCE in a movie that is famous for its unforgettable special effects, and I guess I kind of love it.

In case I haven't made the answer abundantly obvious, I'll add that while SOCIETY is the purest expression of Yuzna-ness on the market, it has an important co-author in Screaming Mad George. The eccentric japanese FX master, whose name is apparently an amalgamation of Mad Magazine, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, and...George, has produced some of horror's most outrageous makeup and visual effects, mostly for Yuzna, many of them in SOCIETY. If you've seen even a trailer for Alex Winter's 1993 oddity FREAKED--which is itself a grossout criticism of American social standards--then you are already familiar with SMG's trademark style. He specializes in twisted perversions of the human form that would make a cenobite blush, driven by a penchant for puns, and influenced equally by THE THING's Rob Botin, and Big Daddy Roth’s Rat Fink style. Screaming Mad George is instrumental in articulating Yuzna's premise: that behind the shimmering veneer of success and sophistication, the upper class are just a bunch of degenerates, who literally degenerate into something unimaginable behind closed doors. It's impossible to imagine SOCIETY without his sinuous, slithering monstrosities, or his indescribable realization of their most important social event, "the shunt".

One of many great images from a zine I wish I owned, on SMG’s Facebook page.

It's easy to get overwhelmed by SOCIETY's visual impact, but its message is just as potent now as it was at the end of the Reagan era: Rich people are not only different from the rest of us, but in fact, they aren't even human. Writers Keith and Fry make an interesting choice of hero to help put this across. A lazier writer would have selected any archetype from the Freaks and Geeks set to create an easy Us vs Them tension, but SOCIETY is led by a promising young man who, for reasons he himself does not yet understand, is just not "the right kind of people". Bill appears to have every advantage in life, including a level of popularity that wins him presidency of the debate team despite his nerdier rival’s superior prowess--and yet, he suffers from a stigmatizing psychiatric disorder that is the natural result of feeling indefinably different from one's peers, and intuiting that, as a consequence, they don't even really like you. The shallow jock with deep-seated emotional problems is a much more interesting protagonist for this kind of social allegory than the charismatic outcasts that you get in movies like THE FACULTY and DISTURBING BEHAVIOR, for whom the idea that the elites could be aliens is just de rigueur.

It's worth noting that this complexity of character extends to Bill's love interest, sympathetic society girl Clarissa Carlyn (Playboy Playmate Devin DeVasquez). At first, she seems villainously eager to introduce Bill to the many splendors of "the shunting", but as the plot against him mounts to its horrifying conclusion, she defects. There appears to be a reason for this, although honestly, this is the most difficult part of SOCIETY for me to wrap my head around. Clarissa lives as an essentially independent adult, only burdened by her mother (Pamela Matheson), a possibly brain damaged hulk who lurks in and out of various scenes just to be disturbing, always announced by some toots on a tuba, before eventually siding with our heroes. I'm really not sure what's supposed to be going on in this part of the movie, except that this character contributes to a number of distasteful jokes. But, I hold on to the idea that by virtue of whatever disorder Mrs. Carlyn suffers from, she serves the purpose of priming Clarissa to rebel, since her very existence makes her daughter something of a societal outcast herself. That's the best I can do.

In any case, everyone working on SOCIETY commits completely, with Mrs. Carlyn being no exception. The movie's climactic orgy of the damned is an all hands on deck operation, just as reliant on Screaming Mad George's artistic abilities as it is on the actors' responsibility to make you believe that this fucked up shit is really happening. There's a visceral patina of sleaze spread over the entire film, dripping from the way that characters talk to and touch each other, flirting and flaunting their bodies in a distinctly unseemly fashion, even when it stays within the realm of mundane reality. This constant sinister, insinuating attitude on the part of the whole cast lays the foundation for what is to come, and while I appreciate everybody's hard work, my favorite performance is from an actor who only comes in at the very end: David Wiley as society king Judge Carter. Wiley's career consisted almost exclusively of the most ordinary sort of television work, which makes his outrageous turn in this alien porno flick all the more respectable. While other characters transition from suspicious pod people to full-on mutated perverts, Judge Carter has to show up just for the finale, establish his authority, rip off his clothes, and plunge straight into a sea of slime, happily fisting his way through the cast. Wiley meets this challenge with aplomb, making of himself a hybrid of Robert Englund and Gene Hackman, perfectly embodying the movie's joyful absurdity, and never betraying the slightest hint of embarrassment.

SOCIETY is very much a don't-look-down type of endeavor, a fairy that could expire at the slightest lapse in faith. There's a visual pun in the last act that's so gross, so offensive, so frankly idiotic, that I don't have the courage to describe it; my whole body tenses up when I know this scene is coming, as if it were the meat hook scene in TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE or the brutal rape in the middle of SHOWGIRLS. I don't like it, but at the same time, I respect Yuzna's unhesitating commitment to show it to me, and I think that actor Charles Lucia should get some kind of award for shouldering the burden so valiantly. SOCIETY is a daring movie in the truest sense, a film with more balls than brains, and in this it exposes the limitation of intelligence and taste, and the real need for pure transgression, in producing art of any real value. You might argue with me about whether Yuzna's masturbatory magnum opus really qualifies as art, but to respond to that, I'll quote the great transgressor Alejandro Jodorowsky: "If you are great, EL TOPO is a great picture. If you are limited, EL TOPO is limited." So stick that in your shunt and smoke it.

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PS Here, have this stuck in your head for the rest of your life.

#blogtober #2020 #society #brian yuzna #screaming mad george #woody keith #rick fry #billy warlock #Keith Walley #devin devasquez #david wiley #horror #black comedy #satire #body horror #social criticism

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 4 years

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SKIN DEEP—a fic

So Rainbow had a pretty funny exchange on Twitter yesterday about the Watford crew and teenage acne, and in particular if Baz would have acne. Which she said he most certainly would. So, being me, I had to go write a fic about it. Because I have no chill and even less self control. So here is a slightly crack-y fic, set at pre-canon era Watford, as hormones start to surge and Simon becomes pimple obsessed.

Screen shots of Rainbow’s tweets at the end of this post, to prove this lunacy had a real life prompt.

Simon and Baz fourth year, as the ravages of adolescence commence. Pimples, blemishes and spots. Questionable concoctions. The roots of Baz’s immaculate skin care regimen. Some things even a vampire can’t avoid.

Skin Deep

Year Four

Simon

I’m just about to splash water on my face when I notice them in the mirror. I mean, I’ve been expecting this to happen. I saw the older boys go all spotty at the homes. There’s no way I’d be lucky enough to be spared.

But fuck it all. I’ve got one on the side of my nose, two on my chin and one right between my eyebrows. How did I get all these pimples in one night?

I’m half tempted to think Baz spelled me. But that’s not his style, he doesn’t sneak about doing something like this, even though he’s a prick and a plotter. No, he did things like this when we were first years, but now when Baz spells me he wants everyone to know what he’s done.

Makes a production of it, the wanker.

Like when he knocks my boater off. Spells my shoes untied during class, so I trip when I stand up. Or seals the lid on the butter dish at breakfast.

If Baz was going to spell me spotty he’d do it in on a Monday, right before class, when everyone would notice. Not in our room, on a Saturday morning, when we’ve got nothing to do and nowhere to go.

He’s still asleep so if he did do it, it must have been in the night and really what would be the bloody point of that?

I have to reluctantly admit it’s probably not him this time. It’s me. I was just hoping this particular stage of puberty would just pass me by.

The other milestones have been coming one right after another though, so I guess I’m not that lucky.

I’ve got hair in more places now.

And I grew three inches this summer (Baz grew four, the tosser, so he’s still taller than me).

He’s taller but it’s like he fits in his body. Glides when he walks. Smooth as silk on the pitch. Bloody infuriating, is what it is.

I feel like a marionette on a string, my arms and legs all out of sync, knocking into furniture and tripping over my own feet, even when my shoes are tied.

And my voice has been doing that stupid thing where it gets all deep mid-sentence, and then it goes up so high I sound like Madame Bellamy. It’s bloody awful. Baz always gives me shit about it --“going to break into song for us, Snow?”

He’s such a prick.

I lean in closer to the mirror. The ones on my chin are small. It’s the nose one that’s a disaster.

No help for it. I’ll ask Penny if there’s a spell at breakfast. Though I doubt there is, seeing as Agatha’s been spotty for weeks and I know she’d use a spell, if there was one. Penny says Agatha spells her hair to be that straight and shine like it does. I wasn’t sure I believed her but some days it’s got a bit of an uneven wave to it so I wonder if Penny may be right.

*******

“No, Simon, there isn’t a spell.” Penny is using her patient voice with me, which means she thinks my question is unbearably stupid. She leans across the table to peer at me over her glasses. “You’ve hardly got any.”

“I might only have four now. But just you wait. They’re bound to get worse. With my luck I’ll be covered in them.”

“You don’t know that. And even if they do get worse it’s human nature! The universal teen experience!”

I groan.

“It won’t be that bad, Simon. Besides everyone’s spotty.”

“Baz isn’t spotty.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not Baz again, please.”

“Have you seen him, Penny?”

“I see him every day, Simon.”

“Yes, but have you really looked?”

“Obviously not as intently as you.”

“I live with him!”

I get another eye roll.

“He’s not got one spot! I tell you, it’s proof he’s a vampire. You can’t go through normal adolescence and be as pristine as all that.”

“Everyone goes through puberty at different times. He’s probably not at that stage yet.”

“He’s taller than me!”

“He’s always been taller than you.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“It’s not like he has any control over that, Simon. It’s genetics.”

I know that. I know height isn’t something that you can magick. But it just doesn’t seem fair that each time I grow enough to catch up to him, he grows too.

He did it last summer. Did it again this summer. Even grew over the Christmas holiday this year, the jammy bastard.

And now I’m sprouting pimples right and left and he’s across the dining hall with his flawless, pearly grey skin. Not a spot to be seen.

Typical.

****

I can tell I’ve got more when I wake up. Bloody hell. The old ones dry up and get crusty and new ones take their place.

My face feels heavier this morning. I grimace and I know there’s one on the side of my nose again. It pinches when my cheeks move so it must be massive. And the one on my chin itches— it’s probably grown overnight, red and welted around that nasty white center. I can’t even imagine what my forehead looks like.

I’ve tried everything.

Washing my face twice a day.

Alcohol to try to dry them out (didn’t do a thing, except make my skin all flaky so I looked like I had dandruff and the pox).

I borrowed some ointment off of Gareth. (He’s worse off than me, the poor sod, just a face full of them.) (Which should have tipped me off that whatever he was using wasn’t working.) (Got an earful from Penny about that.)

I had some sort of allergic reaction when I used his, so my face was itching, red even in the areas between the spots, and felt like it was on fucking fire.

Practically scrubbed my face off trying to wash it away.

Of course, Baz walked in right as I came out of the en suite. Did a double take at the sight of me, the wanker, then raised that eyebrow of his and curled his lip up in a sneer. Leaned forward and studied me for a moment. My face got even hotter. I don’t like it when he stares at me like that, all intense and focused. Like he’s plotting the best way to end me without triggering the Anathema. Makes my stomach twist, it does.

Made me wish my wand wasn’t half way across the room.

But I know Baz won’t risk the Anathema. He’s never done anything remotely threatening in our room. (It’s another story out of our room.)

He’d crossed his arms over his chest after he was done inspecting me and smirked, the tosser. “You know, Snow, between the excessive quantity of moles, infinite number of freckles, and extraordinary collection of pimples you have on your face, I don’t think I can actually see anything resembling skin anymore.”

He’s going to make me trigger the Anathema one of these days.

I ended up having to see the nurse for it, when I couldn’t stop scratching at my face. She rolls her eyes almost as much as Penny. It’s not like I can help being there so often. I’ve got missions. Important work for the Mage. It’s what I do.

She’d shaken her head at me and cast some spell that made the itching go away but didn’t do a thing for the bloody spots. Looked bored and put upon even doing that, she did.

This teen experience is a bloody nuisance.

I’m more and more convinced Baz is a vampire. The entire class looks poxed except for him. Like we’re in the middle of a plague while he’s all alabaster skin, unblemished and smooth, immaculate and bloody flawless.

Perfect, just like he always is.

Wanker.

Baz

Snow is an absolute spotted mess. It was entertaining at first, to watch him peer at himself in the mirror, hear the muttered curses as he would catch sight of each new blemish.

But I’m actually finding myself almost feeling sorry for him now.

Almost.

He’s standing at his mirror, turning his face this way and that, grumbling to himself as he inspects his reflection.

It’s something he does on a daily basis since his skin condition deteriorated so precipitously. I should probably stop needling him about it.

But I won’t because he actually seems quite bothered by it. Can’t let him think I’m going soft.

I wasn’t joking the other night, when I mocked him. I don’t think he has a span of skin left that doesn’t have some manner of spot or blotch or freckle on it. At least he’s stopped with the alcohol washes. He was shedding more than a snake when he was doing that, leaving errant flakes of skin all over the bathroom sink.

Disgusting.

Whatever he’s doing certainly isn’t making anything better. Making it a far sight worse by my estimation.

He’s literally a textbook illustration of acne vulgaris. The full range: from red and bumpy spots, to glaring pustules, to crusted over, scabby craters.

More like a walking dermatologic visual in actuality. You could slap a label on him: progressive stages of teenage acne and the entire range of pigmented facial anomalies.

Although they weren’t really anomalies before the acne got to Snow. His moles and freckles just seem to fit with his tawny skin—vast arrays of constellations scattered across his face, mapping out patterns against the smoothness of his complexion.

I don’t know what I’m thinking. What absolute nonsense. Snow’s freckles are a travesty.

And he’s anything but smooth complexioned. He’s more of a lunar landscape than Shakespeare’s damask’d roses.

I can’t be arsed to mess with him now though. I’m too comfortable under my blankets.

It’s far too early for anyone to be up, but Snow’s probably readying himself to head off on one of the Mage’s blasted missions again. Despite the fact that it’s a Sunday morning and by all accounts he should be doing what the rest of us are—having a lazy lie-in.

I watch him from under half-lidded eyes, the blankets pulled up to cover the bottom half of my face. He growls one last time, savages his curls in an attempt to tame them, and then charges out the door. It slams shut behind him, further proof that Snow has no regard for the niceties of sharing a room.

Thanks to all his thumping about, I’m now wide awake. I try to go back to sleep, try to will myself into a drowsy oblivion, but that ship has sailed. No Sunday lie-in for me and I lay the blame directly on Snow.

I stay under the covers for a bit longer, dreading the chilly walk to the en suite, but eventually my need to piss outweighs the comfort of the bed.

It’s not until I’m washing my hands and happen to glance up at the mirror that I notice.

There’s a pimple on my nose. Not just on my nose—at the very tip of it. Right in the fucking center of my face. If it were anywhere else—my forehead or my cheeks, for example—I’d have some chance of hiding it. But this. I can’t hide this.

And I can’t hide the one on my chin either. Bloody hell.

I shouldn’t even have pimples. I should by all rights be immune to this. I don’t get sick, I’m not prey to infections—how the bloody hell have I ended up with acne, for Crowley’s sake? It should be one of the perks of being undead—imperviousness to the ravages of teenage skin eruptions.

For half a minute I wonder if Snow has spelled me, in retribution for my insensitive commentary on his facial imperfections. But there is no possible way Snow could have managed a spell this precise, this nuanced. I’d be covered in boils, like Job himself, if Snow had attempted to pox me.

That’s not to say that this is acceptable. It most assuredly is not. And there’s no bloody spell for it. Dev’s been spotty since last year and he and Niall have yet to find anything that does more than slightly diminish the redness.

It’s fine. This is fine.

It’s not fine.

I need to call home and talk to Daphne. Surely she’ll have some advice for me.

Simon

The sunlight filtering through the window wakes me up. I’m still knackered from yesterday. Didn’t get back until well after midnight and I’ve got class in just a bit. I stretch and groan as my shoulder pops. I wrenched it trying to free my sword from that basilisk’s skull last night. I roll my neck and pull myself to a seated position.

Baz is already up. The door to the en suite’s closed but I don’t hear the water running.

My stomach growls. I’ll have time for seconds if I get to breakfast early enough. I’m just about ready to head down there when Baz comes out of the bathroom, steam drifting behind him and bringing the scent of his shampoo with it. It’s some posh brand, in sleek, artistically shaped bottles.

Penny says it smells like cedar and bergamot. I’m not sure what cedar and bergamot smell like. All I know is that the scent is unfairly pleasant.

Unlike Baz, who isn’t pleasant at all.

He looks murderous at the moment, eyebrows lowered, eyes narrowed. He’s an arse in general but more so in the mornings. He’d sleep late if he had the chance—he’s rarely out of bed before nine on weekends, the tosser, not unless he’s got exams to study for or an away match.

I’m trying to stay out of his way as I leave but I make for the door right as he crosses the room to his wardrobe and we do this awkward half step to avoid each other.

And that’s when I see it.

He’s got a pimple on his nose. Right at the tip of it, where it comes to a bit of a point. It’s nothing compared to any of mine. I’d hardly notice it on anyone else but this is Baz.

It’s stark against his pale skin, raised and just slightly reddened.

Fuck. He’s got one on his chin as well. Two, actually.

Baz has spots.

Trivial and hardly noticeable ones, but still.

I open my mouth to say something then think better of it and hightail it down to breakfast.

I still can’t quite believe it.

Baz has spots.

Penny is disappointingly unimpressed by this unexpected and highly irregular development.

“Simon, we all have spots. This is not some earth-shattering revelation. It’s puberty. A normal part of human development. We’ve been over this.”

“No, but this is Baz. Baz, Penny. He’s not human.”

Penny rolls her eyes again. She rolls her eyes rather a lot, I’m thinking. “He is if he has spots, Simon. I’d say this disproves your vampire hypothesis for good.”

“Maybe vampires aren’t immune to acne.”

“Simon.”

“Maybe it’s some plot. He probably magicked them up himself, the scheming prick.”

“You’re relentless! First you’re outraged that he doesn’t have spots, now you’re complaining that he does! For Merlin’s sake, Baz has finally shown himself to be as imperfect as the rest of us, so let it go, Simon.”

“He’s not imperfect. Far from it. Even his pimples are impeccable—small, unobtrusive, uh . . . restrained.”

Penny stands up, takes her plate and glares at me over the top of her glasses. “That’s enough, Simon. You’re being absurd. No one has perfect pimples.” She stomps across the hall to deposit her dishes, turning back to give me a disapproving look.

I scowl at her. Baz walks in as Penny goes out.

She’s wrong this time. Penny’s not wrong about much, but she’s wrong about this.

Baz’s pimples are fucking perfect.

It’s so fucking unfair.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23383057

#carry on #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #my fics #my writing #pimples #rainbow’s twitter #watford #rainbow said Baz has acne how could I resist writing this?

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malereader-inserts · 5 years

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Three Simple Words

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader Summary: Just one awkward boy declaring his love for another equally awkward boy. Word Count:1,924

It wasn’t like you don’t love Peter, no, you have the biggest crush going and you were just too awkward to respond to it.

You were a Stark, after all, you were a confident man, and yet you flush red whenever Peter comes to visit your home. Tony and Pepper watch on the sideline, grinning like typical parents watching you pine for Peter. The number of times you have denied to your dad that you weren’t in love with Peter.

It came to the point that Tony had to nudge Peter about your ever-growing crush one night in the lab whilst you were out doing some local hero business that didn’t really require Tony or Peter. So, when you returned home with a bag of Mcdonalds, Peter and Tony join you in the kitchen, where you sat in your suit with your mask off.

You were tired, exhausted with your body aching, wishing you had some backup because that job was not local nor easy. You were ready to fall asleep in your food, right there and then. You were startled when your dad pats you on the shoulder.

“Rough night?” Your dad asked, diffusing the tension in your shoulders, “Ah, well, at least you’re unscathed.”

“Barely,” You hummed, “Son of a bitch, really.”

“Well, you go rest up, Pete and I have a few things have to finish up.”

You look up and flush red when you meet Peter’s eyes, you quickly finish your meal and take your drink with you. Abruptly standing up.

“Well, night-”

“Night! I love you-!” Peter exclaims as Tony looks at Peter with a sarcastic look saying ‘very sublet, good job kid.’

You ran into the doorway as you started to laugh nervously, heat quickly raising from your neck to your cheek. You look at Peter as your laughter started to fade out, sharing one last look before quickly exiting to your room.

Peter scratches the back of his neck, “Too much?”

Tony pats him on the shoulder, a sarcastic tone under Tony’s voice, “No, kid, think it was the right about of much.”

“Thanks-?”

“You just have to be persistent with him, how do you think Pepper and I got together?”

“Well, I thought Pepper was the one who avoided your declaration of love from what she, Rhodey and Happy have been telling me. You’re the one who was-”

“Alright! Alright, I was smitten with her!”

Tony waves Peter away, embarrassed as he has to remind himself that he will need to talk to his fiancee. Peter smiles softly as Tony pats his cheek before declaring food is essential before venturing back to the lab.

You had run into him whilst picking up breakfast burgers for you and your dad, Pepper was away for the weekend which meant for you and your dad you could snack on a load of junk food before getting scowled. Peter and Ned were out, it was your fault, really, you had to drive all the way to Queens to get burgers, whilst you could just get them nearby your home, you knew that Queens was Peter’s region.

So, you shouldn’t be so surprised when you enter his favourite burger joint.

“Oh my god, you’re (Y/n) Stark-” Ned exclaims as you nod, flashing him a smile, “Peter-” Ned smacks Peter’s shoulder, who looks at his best friend as if he’s crazy, “Peter, that’s (Y/n) Stark.”

“I’m aware,” Peter spoke, looking at you, “Why are you here?”

You lifted up the bag, “Burgers for dad, you know what he’s like.”

“Pepper not home?”

“Gone for the weekend, it’s boys’ weekend, dad’s very adamant about bonding.”

“Ah, well, enjoy,” Peter meant it, he loved watching yours and Tony’s bond - it was fascinating, “Tell Mr Stark, I’ll be missing out on tonight, you guys need the time.”

You softly smile, nodding, “It’s Tony, you’ve been working with him for over six months, and I’ll tell him that.”

“I love you.”

You blink, as Ned snap his head to his best friend as Peter beams at you. You cleared your throat as Peter continues to knock you off your feet with his soft eyes and stupid welcoming grin.

You give him finger guns.

Finger guns.

Peter doesn’t know whether he should be offended or amused. He goes with the latter.

You turn on your heel and dash to your car, Peter doesn’t miss how nervous you got, almost running into the glass window and almost tripping over the air before catching yourself.

“Dude,” Ned caught Peter’s attention, “You just got flat out rejected by Mr Stark’s son.”

Peter watches you disappear into your car before looking at his best friend, there was still a smile on his face and Ned doesn’t understand why, “No, not really. He’s more than Mr Stark’s son.”

“Are you sure? He just ran out on you.”

“Well, you just have to persistent, they say.”

“Who’s they.”

“His own father.”

You were playing chess with Vision, you were very stubborn that you built up your skill in order to defeat Steve, who is a cocky little son of a bitch when it comes to chess. You were very in the zone as Vision helped you with pointers. Tony and Pepper were chilling by the sofa as Peter had come over to hang around, he liked it when Harley was around but unfortunately, he was busy.

So, he was busy doing his homework nearby.

Tony and Pepper share a look, a sly devious look as you groan in defeat. Leaning back in your seat annoyed that Vision had won again, out of the sixth game you’ve been playing.

It was becoming tedious, you would excuse.

“You’re getting better.”

“I think I’m a disappointment to myself,” You commented.

“Honey, that’s not true. You’re a disappointment to everyone,” Peter responded almost immediately, bouncing off your joke as you snort before Tony or Pepper reacted badly.

You sigh dramatically, before getting up to your feet and wandering to the kitchen as Tony sighs.

“How do I have two annoying teenage boys in my care?” Tony wonders as Pepper chuckles, kissing him on the cheek.

“They both love you very much, now, I believe it’s your turn to cook lunch.”

Tony gets pushed up as Vision looks at his creator with an amused look, Tony narrows his eyes at him before going to the kitchen, watching you sit on the kitchen counter, sipping on a can of soda, and challenging Peter.

“We have fun together, (Y/n)!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more stressed in my life,” You responded, as Peter rolls his eyes.

“What did I walk into?” Tony questioned as he sees that Peter has abandoned his Chemistry homework.

“(Y/n) is complaining that I spend more time with you than I do with him.”

“It’s true!”

The two started to bicker as Tony runs his hand through his hair, muttering how he’s getting grey hairs quicker because of you and him, “I have two five-year-olds.”

“A five-year-old that loves him-!” Peter exclaims, pointing his finger at you.

You choked on your soda as you started to cough, smacking your own chest as you tilt your head, “Uh, huh, why?”

“Really!” Tony blurted out, exasperated.

“What?”

“That’s how you respond?”

“I panicked!

“Hi, I’m still in the room.”

Tony and you look at Peter, who waves awkwardly, there was silence in the kitchen as you three have a stare off.

“What’s for lunch?” Pepper announced her arrival, “What do you want (Y/n)?”

“A will to live-”

“For lunch!”

“Oh, lasagna.”

You chuckle nervously as you slide your way out of the kitchen.

“Still avoiding your advance, Pete?” Pepper asked after a relative time of silence since you left the kitchen.

“Big time,” Tony hummed as he turns to make lunch, “I don’t know why he’s avoiding saying it back, kid, I see the way he looks at you.”

“The same way Tony looks at me,” Pepper nods, ruffling Peter’s hair, “Don’t give up on him.”

After a long night of fighting vicious monsters, the team had settled into the Avengers compound. You were leaning against your dad’s shoulders with an arm over your face. Peter sitting next to you, leaning against you.

It has been a rough mission and the team was beaten. They hadn’t even had the energy to get up and take a hot shower or go to bed. They were just fixed on the sofa of the living room. The team was quiet, some were falling asleep on each other, some were relieving stress in each other’s muscles.

Tony was on his phone, very determined to get a quick picture of him and his two sleepy boys that were putting all their weight on him.

“I love you,” Peter mumbles to you, his eyes are closed and his arms crossed over his chest but very comfortable against your side.

“A horrible decision, really,” You answer.

“Can you two really not go a day without a self-deprecating joke for one day?” Tony wondered, “I’m getting worried.”

“I’m gay and sad,”

“Gsad,”

“No, Pete.”

Tony doesn’t understand how you two aren’t together, you were great in each other’s company. Everything fitted into place, you bounce off each other. You were in sync and yet, somehow, in some bizarre world, you just refuse to say it back. It was three simple words.

Three simple words but a lot of meaning.

You shifted the balance between your feet. Your left hand in your suit pocket as you run your other hand through your hair. Your dad was throwing a gala, for your eighteenth birthday. It was an excuse for him to throw a party. Peter was invited, bringing his friends along.

You hated how your dad wanted it to be fancy, eighteen wasn’t much of a milestone. Yet, here you were eyeing Peter. Your lips curve upwards, watching his prince charming hair flop every time he turns his head.

You had avoided him for most parts of the night until it became a prom night with the music. The DJ had put on slow music for couples to dance to, you roll your eyes at the sappiness before realising how your feet were taking you to Peter.

“Hey Pete, care for a dance?”

Peter looks at you, sipping the last of his drink and staring at your outstretched hand as if it was an alien. He looks up at you, staring at hopeful eyes before taking your hand.

Swaying to the soft gentle slow music, Peter hesitantly moves closer to you, you beam at him as Peter felt comfortable in your arms.

“I love you.”

“I know,” You hummed, your grip on his suit jackets tightens, “I love you.”

Peter looks at you, the biggest grin forming as he looks over your shoulder and captures Tony’s eyes. With one simple look, Tony beams at the bashful-looking kid that was currently swaying with his son. Tony turns to look for Pepper to gush about his son and his other soon to be an official son.

“Good, I was about to worry.”

“Don’t ruin the moment.”

“Oh okay,” Peter grips you harder, he feels you smile down at him, “This is nice.”

You nodded, agreeing with him. What was going to top this moment? The fact that you were dancing with the cutest boy you’ve ever met, and you both love each other that you swear that both your hearts were going to explode with the amount of love you have for each other.

This isn’t nice.

It was perfect.

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x male!reader #x male reader #Avengers #avengers imagine #personal favourite

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nihilnovisubsole · 5 years

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i feel like we say this every year now, but wow, 2019 sure was a ride, wasn’t it?

sometimes i worry so much about coming off as negative that i’m not emotionally honest about my personal life. so, as much as i wish i could tell you otherwise, i’m not really ending 2019 on a high note. for several months, i’ve been working on something that’s been a shambling slog of rejection, false hope, and a lot of wasted energy. i’ll survive - i always do - but it’s still been frustrating, and it’s definitely affected my ability to work on my other projects. in fact, i’m not even going to tally up a word count for 2019. i know it’s less than 2018. nothing i can do but do better next time. many of my friends have hit huge, happy personal milestones this year - engagements, big moves, dream jobs, graduate degrees. i’m proud of every one of them, and because i’m so proud of them, i wish i had something of that magnitude to share with them, too.

[again, i say this as a joke, not to be depressing, but you know i’m in a rut because i’ve been drawing more again. when i’m happy, i write. when i write, i’m happy. when i push through my forearm injury to draw, you know there’s something i’m trying to escape from. probably the writing.]

on the other hand, i don’t want to let the gloomy second half of the year cloud the fact that i really, actually, finally, for real put a novel out. i’d built it up in my head for so long, it feels strangely ordinary to have done the one thing i’ve wanted to do since i was eight years old. because i’m... well, me, i have to remind myself that it’s a real achievement, not just the bare minimum to be an accomplished human being. i did it. i wrote it, i designed the cover, i formatted the ebook, i tweeted about it, i saw it through from start to finish and made it real. even if it hasn’t made me an overnight millionaire. even if i didn’t publish it in the way i dreamed of being published in elementary school.

it’s also a sign of how far i’ve come that i see me taking a summer break to dash off a 38,000-word fanfic as a trivial footnote. [and a very well-received one, thank you!] i remember all the afternoons i hunched over my college desk and grit my teeth about only being able to write 200 words a day. i remember how hard i worked to drag myself over the 13,000-word finish line of the fallout big bang. lord knows i remember playing repetitive video games until 4 AM, stewing in the fear that i’d never make it in the only field i want to pursue. nowadays i don’t think, apart from a chosen few, any writer “makes it” the way we think of “making it.” you never get to rest on your laurels. you always have to keep working. it’s why you have to enjoy it. even if i’m not a bestseller, i’m lucky i do.

because it’s 2019, everyone is doing retrospectives on 2009, and it’s weird for me to contemplate even existing in 2009 and 2010. for years, i’ve thought about writing a nonfiction piece about what happened back then, and something always stops me before i get it off the ground. either i cringe at my memories, or i cringe at my nonfiction writing style, or i want to wait until i’ve become some kind of outrageous success so i have something more narratively satisfying to end it with. mostly, i recoil in horror at the idea that, to really write it, i’d have to be completely open about a wretched time in my life. after a decade of facing outward on social media, i’ve become one of those stiff-upper-lip people who is intensely private about the things that actually bother me. you kill a bad thing by acting in public like it never existed. if you write a navel-gazing essay about it, you’ve made it immortal. so maybe i will. maybe i won’t.

in the meantime, i wonder if i can meet myself halfway and learn to talk about my younger self with more neutrality. i’ve spent the decade brutalizing past-me with a spiked baseball bat over my questionable grooming, or my edgy, cynical attitudes, or things i said out of jealousy or ignorant, arrogant meanness that irreversibly damaged friendships with people who didn’t deserve it. bashing your old self’s brain in doesn’t change the choices you made. it just leaves you exhausted and covered in gore and feeling gross. i always said that if i let myself forget how much it hurt, i’d slip up and make the same mistake again. but that’s not true, is it? i think now the real victory would be to let it stay in the past and not feel the obsessive urge to keep scourging myself. to paraphrase a dear friend who i don’t get to talk to enough, “everyone is already cruel to teenage girls. you don’t have to be, too.”

around the time i graduated from college, i had a premonition that it would take about a decade after 2010 to get back on my feet. i couldn’t explain why then, and i can’t now either. it’s just a feeling. by some people’s standards, i may have already done it. by other people’s - like my own - i still have a long, long way to go. which is silly, because i couldn’t even tell you what “getting back on my feet” looks like. i just know that it has been almost ten years, and i have a sense that i’m standing on one of those precipices of change where you've become sick of yourself. i’ve started feeling homesick for places i’ve never been. i’m fidgety about my writing projects. i’m not sure what i want to throw myself into next. i’d love to move to another country, which is surreal and bewildering, since i’ve spent the whole last decade wanting to move back to the home i lost. what can i do with that? i don’t know. i want things so badly, i wear myself out. i’ve always struggled to accept that sometimes you just have to wait and see.

i thought about setting new year’s goals, like “talk more about dangerous crowns,” or “publish a twine game,” or “finish another novel,” or something like that. but to be honest, i already hold myself to such ridiculous standards that pressing the boot on my back even harder feels like a bad idea. maybe 2020 is the year to work harder without trying to prescribe what should come of it. i may not know where i’m going or whether i’m on my way, but at least i know next year, i’ll have something new to report.

#long post

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trashforhockeyguys · 5 years

Text

Need The Sun-5- Tyler Seguin

A/N: Get ready for a nice little emotional rollercoster. But in a good way?? I think.

Bad- James Bay

“Mommy! Come on! Stop walking so slow!” Ella tugged on your arm to try and get you to move faster.

You laughed and slowly picked up your pace. Ella wouldn’t stop until both of you were inside and ready for whatever movie Tyler picked. Normally, you didn’t come to movie nights, Tyler would come pick her up and bring her back in a few days, this time, however, Tyler asked if you wanted to come. Apparently, he was having some of the other guys over and thought it might be good for you to get out of the house.

You hadn’t done much in the last week, especially not when you were still trying to live off of caffeine. Although, the energy drinks and sodas were starting to fail you. Now it was just about trying to stay awake long enough to get through the day, and still have enough energy for Ella when it was over.

“Uncle Jamie!” She let go of you and ran to Jamie, who was standing just inside the door.

“Little bug! Have you gotten bigger? Huh? I swear you’ve grown another foot!” Jamie joked.

“No silly!”

“No?” He gasped, “Seggy! What are you feeding my little niece when she’s here?”

You loved that Jamie really did consider himself Ella’s uncle. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t really family. He and Jordie loved her just as much as they’d love their own family. It made you happy, having no real siblings of your own, for her to have so many aunts and uncles. Between Tyler’s sisters and his team, she had more than enough people in her corner.

“She just eats her veggies, right Ella May?”

She nodded excitedly, “Mmhm! Veggies make you strong! Strong means I can play hockey!”

“Alright, I’m stepping in before you completely turn her into a little hockey player,” You joked.

“Hey,” Tyler smiled softly when he realized you were there, “Was the drive over okay?”

“Yeah, hardly any traffic for once.”

Jamie reached over to give you as good of a hug as he could with Ella in his arms. You didn’t realize you were playing with your old necklace until Jamie gave you a little look. Quickly, and hopefully, before he or Tyler realized what was now held on the chain, you tucked it back under your shirt. The necklace itself was passed down by your grandmother, but what now hung on that chain was something more important to you. Something that weighed heavy against your chest. Something you’d prefer to keep a secret from both of the men in the room.

“Well, Y/N, do you want a drink or anything?” Tyler asked, “The rest of the guys should be getting here soon.”

You took a shaky breath; a drink would be good. You’d probably need a few to get through a movie night with all of them, even if it was probably going to be a Disney movie for Ella. They’d still find a way to make sly comments here and there or just act like four-year-olds too.

“A drink would be nice, yeah.”

Jamie set Ella back down, “Little bug, why don’t you go play until the other guys get here?”

Next thing you knew, she was bolting down the hall towards her room, three dogs right on her heels. They wouldn’t leave her side when she was around. Her three little bodyguards, who would probably stop anyone from hurting her if they had to.

Tyler handed you a glass of wine not long after. You tried not to jolt at the feeling of his hand brushing yours. You tried to ignore the feeling that spread through you, the way you could almost feel his hand still ghosting over yours. One touch, one innocent touch, was almost enough to break you down again.

“Thanks,” You had to keep yourself from drinking the whole glass in that instant.

Maybe you should’ve. But you knew one glass was all you could have. You had to look after Ella, and you would in no way, allow yourself to get any type of drunk around the team. You’d learned your lesson from over the years. Not to mention you weren’t sure if you’d make it if you had to spend another night in this house, in a bedroom as far away from Tyler as you could get. Anywhere else you’d be fine, but not under this roof. You wouldn’t be able to keep yourself together.

In fact, you were already struggling. Part of you felt like you were stuck in a time warp. Maybe if you closed your eyes, you could see what it was like before again. A night off, with Tyler and Jamie, sitting around watching movies and drinking. This would’ve been a normal night.

“What movie are we watching Segs?” Jamie asked.

“Uhh she wanted to watch Miracle,” He shrugged, “So, looks like hockey.”

“Wait, really? I can never get her to watch it with me,” You were shocked.

You’d grown up on Miracle, or the story of it at least. You’d gone to see the movie in theaters and watched it all the time in your younger years. In the last year, you’d tried to get Ella to sit through it with you because you figured she’d like it, but she always refused. Saying she’d rather watch Mona again.

“Yeah, we watched that and all three Mighty Ducks the other week,” He replied, “She loves them.”

You tried not to feel upset. They were just movies. But it was another thing you were missing out on. You knew that both of you were missing out on little milestones in her life. But you also knew that he missed out on a lot more. So, while you were happy that he was able to be there for little things like a movie, you couldn’t help but hurt a little because it wasn’t you.

“She also asked if we could watch Beauty and The Beast since it’s your favorite.”

“She did?” You questioned.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, “She said that movie always makes you happy. And she likes it when you sing along with her. Plus, it did use to be tradition that we’d watch that with her every weekend, and then Slapshot after she went to bed.”

You found yourself pulling at the collar of your shirt, just above where your necklace stopped. Suddenly you felt like you were intruding on something. Almost like you’d lost the right to be here. Leaving now wasn’t an option, you wouldn’t be able to go until the night was over, but you needed a minute to gather yourself.

You needed to get outside, for just a second. Just to be away from both of them, so you could collect yourself. Maybe try to turn off your emotions, or at least force this feeling down. Between the feeling in your gut, the ache in your heart, and the way he was looking at you, you were sure you were going to die right there.

“Shit, Ella left Bear Bear in the car and you know she won’t sit through a movie without him,” You explained, “I’ll be back.”

You tried not to run, god did you try. But you could feel your chest tightening and your lungs fighting for air. You couldn’t figure out why tonight was so hard. Maybe it was because it was so familiar. Hockey games were easy because you could focus on something else, and you’d love hockey no matter what.

You leaned against your car, resting your arms on the roof. You tried to slow your heart and your breathing. You tried to convince yourself that whatever just came over you wouldn’t happen again. You wouldn’t let it, you were in control. Whatever was going on, you could get through it and get through the night.

You could ignore the way he looked at you. The hurt mixed with something else, something that rocked you and terrified you. You should be happy that the two of you could be in the same room together, have normal conversations together. You wanted that for Ella. But the selfish part of you wished he’d move on, or that he’d just hate you and be done with it. Sure, it would hurt, but in some ways, it would hurt less than whatever he was feeling.

You took a few more seconds, letting the cool air shock you back into reality. You couldn’t get shaken up like this. Not only did you not have the right to, but you couldn’t let anyone see you like this, much less Ella. Never mind the fact that you felt like you could go to sleep already, that was nothing new. You could play off being so tired, but this was something different.

You knew you needed to go back in before one of them came out to find you. You knew they would if you stayed out here too long. But you didn’t want to move, it was almost like all of your energy was ripped from you. The simple interaction of a conversation left you with nothing to give.

Somehow, you forced yourself to take a step back and open the car door. Bear Bear was in the seat right next to Ella’s car seat. She’d been too excited to get inside that she’d completely forgotten about him, which was unusual for her. She normally always had him in her hand.

You sighed and grabbed the stuffed bear. She hadn’t let you take off the jersey yet, at this point you weren’t sure if she ever would. You hugged the bear to your chest and played with the fur. You had to find the strength to go back in there. The other guys would be coming soon and you couldn’t keep hiding outside.

“Jamie you can’t- you don’t even know that,” You heard Tyler stammer once you opened the door.

“Dude, have you seen her necklace?”

“It’s her grandmother’s ring. Always has been, she got it as a teenager.”

“No, that ring was golden. I saw two silver bands. Tyler, I’m telling you, she still has them.”

Your hand shot up to your necklace. The weight of the rings seemed to double. How did Jamie know? You never pulled them out from under your shirt, and surely you didn’t pull your necklace enough for him to realize what was on it.

Your heart rate picked up. Tyler knew you still had the rings. You’d tried to give them back to him during the whole process of the divorce, but he kept telling you to keep them. Time after time he told you they were yours and that you could do whatever you wanted with them.

At first, you put them in the very back of a drawer you hardly opened. You didn’t want to see them, seeing them made you feel sick. But then, part of you wanted something as a reminder. You wanted to remember all of the love and the dreams those two rings represented. So, you slid them into the same chain that held your grandmother’s ring.

You didn’t tell anyone. The last thing you wanted was for everyone to know that you still wore your wedding rings. That was the last thing you wanted Tyler to know. But now he did, and all you could do was hold your breath and wait.

“She keeps lying to me,” Tyler mumbled, “She won’t tell me the truth about any of it. At first, I thought maybe she was having-”

“If you tell me that you thought she was cheating on you, I will smack you. You know damn well that she would never do that,” Jamie argued.

“No, I know that. But Jame, she dropped the divorce on me without any reasoning, besides the fact that she claimed she didn’t love me. What else was I supposed to think?”

You knew you needed to either leave or step in. But you were frozen. You wanted to move, you wanted to make it stop, make him stop. You could hear the hurt in his voice. Part of you wanted to hug him and spend hours apologizing to him, the other part wanted to run as fast and as far as you could.

You clutched onto the bear even tighter. Maybe you could wish it all away. Maybe, somehow, you could turn back the clock and undo all of this. Even if it was just for a second, that’s all you wanted. To go back, to make things right.

You wished you would’ve made other choices. Maybe taken a second to realize that you would hurt more than just yourself with all of this. None of this helped Tyler, or Ella, or yourself. But it was too late now, you’d done the damage, trying to fix it would only cause more. You kept reminding yourself that.

“And what do you think now?” Jamie asked.

“I still love her. That’s all I can think about. I could try and put a shit ton of distance between us, hell I could have a different girl in bed every night, but I’d still miss her. I’d still love her.”

“Tyler.”

“I know Jamie, trust me I know. My sisters tried to snap me out of it. But I just,” he paused, “I promised to spend the rest of my life with her. I didn’t think I was capable of that until her. Now, even thinking about spending it with someone else feels wrong. Having someone else in bed with me, dating someone…all of it.”

You almost stumbled back. You never thought you’d hear him say that, whether you were meant to hear it or not. You felt like the air had been knocked out of you. You wanted this, yet at the same time, you didn’t. You thought he’d be able to move on, you expected him to. But you never thought that would be the reason that he didn’t. He still loved you. He never stopped loving you.

Even after you broke his heart. Even after you broke up your family, with little to no excuse. It didn’t seem to matter that you tried being cold and closed off to him. It didn’t seem to matter that you’d taken almost everything he loved away. He still loved you.

“I’d marry her again in a heartbeat if she’d let me Jamie. I’ll forgive everything, she just has to say the word. Hell, I’ll even fall at her feet. She can have it all. I don’t care, I just want her. I want our family back.”

Something broke inside you, or maybe finally broke loose. You found yourself moving quickly through the house. At the same time, they both seemed to realize that you’d heard everything. You could see the look on Jamie’s face, but you didn’t dare look at Tyler.

You felt the tears running down your cheeks before you even realized you were crying. Suddenly you began to regret even coming. You shouldn’t have heard any of that. Because now you wouldn’t be able to let it go, all you’d be able to hear was him saying how much he loved you. How much he’d do for you.

You were the one who decided things needed to end rather than talking your fears over. If you hadn’t been so stupid, you’d still be happily married. Ella would have both parents. Yet, here he was, saying that he’d do almost anything for you if it meant getting you back.

This wasn’t part of the plan. You never anticipated that he’d still love you after all this time. But then again, you always assumed he’d hate you, and he never did. You didn’t understand any of it, none of it made sense. How did you get to this point?

You dropped Bear Bear onto the couch and spun around. You needed to get out of here. You’d come back for Ella in a little while, but you needed space to process. That is if you could even process all of this. He still loved you.

“Y/N! Wait!” You heard Tyler say as you made it to the door.

You wouldn’t let yourself stop. If you stopped, you’d stay, and then you’d get into a situation you promised yourself you’d avoid. You were heaving to try and get air in. Shock, this had to be shock. You weren’t sure what you’d expected Tyler to feel towards you, but it wasn’t love.

You heard him running out behind you. You knew from experience that he wouldn’t let you go. He’d rather have you scream and yell at him during a fight than leave. But you wished he’d let you go this time. You didn’t want him to see you crying like this, or at all really. But the crying wasn’t something to control now.

You just kept hearing his words over and over again. You thought you might vomit. You couldn’t think straight, much less face him right now. He already had ownership of your heart, you’d given it willingly years ago. But it felt like he’d just ripped it from your chest, whether he meant to or not.

“Y/N, please stop,” He begged, “Don’t run away from me again, please.”

You tried to force down the pain that was building in your chest. You were in fight or flight mode, and he was begging for you to stay. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to manage this. How could you have a conversation with him after that?

“I didn’t mean-”

“What? You didn’t mean it? Just another joke between you and the boys?” You demanded.

“No. Fuck. Y/N, I didn’t mean for you to hear it like that. Damnit, this shouldn’t even be happening!”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t. But it is because I’m the one who made it happen,” You replied, your voice cracking, “So yell, scream. Hate me. I did this, it’s time to stop pretending that this isn’t my fault. So, do what you have to do Tyler.”

He took a step towards you, “Then I have to say this, and I really need you to listen to me,” his voice was gentle, careful even, “I love you. I am in love with you, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop. I know you don’t love me, or at least not like you used to, but that’s too bad. Because I am never going to stop loving you.”

You tugged on the chain so that it pulled out from under your shirt. The rings were on full display now. No going back, even though he knew anyway. Knowing and seeing are different things.

“I don’t wear these just to wear them. I wear them because-”

He cut you off by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him. There wasn’t a second to hesitate or overthink, because his mouth was on yours before you could. You hadn’t expected him to do that.

But you found yourself practically melting into him. You clutched onto him, feeling like the world was spinning around you. Hell, the whole world could come to an end at that moment and you wouldn’t have cared.

You could feel yourself starting to lose it. You pulled him closer to you, trying to get as close as you could. He seemed to share the same sentiment because not a second later he was doing the same.

It wasn’t a power struggle. This felt more like two people getting to know each other again. Yet everything felt familiar to you. The way he held you, the way he felt, the way he tasted. This was all the man that you’d fallen in love with.

The two of you started backing up until you hit your car. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging gently. You never thought you’d end up like this, but you weren’t going to stop him. You liked it too much.

You’d forgotten how much you loved this. How much you loved being close to him. You never wanted to stop now. He was addictive. You knew you’d never be able to get enough. You could probably spend your whole life like this and still feel like you’d never get enough.

“Tyler,” You were begging for something that you didn’t even understand.

“I love you,” He murmured against your lips, “I love you.”

Nothing else mattered. You just wanted him, you wanted more. Hearing him say that seemed to bust you open. Damn being rational. Damn playing it safe. You wanted this, you needed it. You could deal with all of the repercussions later.

Your hands wondered under his shirt. Your knees were weak. You couldn’t even register the fact that you two were outside, pressed up against your car. You didn’t care that Jamie could probably see you two. Or that Ella was inside. All you could think of was him.

He pushed up your shirt so that he could feel any amount of skin. Your whole body reacted to him. You were hot, your skin was on fire. Everywhere his hands moved it got worse. You felt dizzy in the best way.

“More. God please. I need more.”

“Fuck. Y/N”

He pulled one of your legs up. His hand ran up and down your thigh. His lips started wondering down your neck, nipping at the skin here and there. He’d be the death of you, that much was certain.

His hand that was under your shirt moved higher slowly, almost painfully slow. You were panting, unable to get a full breath in. You weren’t sure what either of you were trying to accomplish in his driveway, but at this point, you wouldn’t say no. Not with his mouth on your neck. You were pretty sure you could lose it just like this.

“Shit.” Tyler quickly pulled away from you, pulling you up from the car in the process.

It took you a second to snap back to reality, but when you did you realized that someone else pulled into the driveway. You tried to comb through your hair and fix your shirt. Just before the person got out of the car, Tyler tugged on your necklace, seeming to remember that you probably didn’t want anyone else to see that.

Roope came strolling towards both of you a few seconds later. Seemingly unaware of what was going on just thirty seconds before. You couldn’t help but worry that he’d seen something, and he might mention it to one of the other guys.

You didn’t know what this meant for you and Tyler. Until you had some type of idea, you didn’t want anyone else to know. Until you and Tyler knew where you stood with one another, you couldn’t allow yourself to get your hopes up.

This could’ve easily been because you were lonely, both of you. Not to mention the fact that you had more history than you knew what to do with. That had to make it easier to fall back into step with one another, right?

“Hey, just in time man,” Tyler sounded unfazed.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look over at him. You couldn’t calm your racing heart either. You could still feel his hands and his lips all over you. Now you really weren’t sure if you could go back in there and make it through the night. You were almost sure you couldn’t now.

“Y/N and I were just talking, but we’re done now,” Tyler explained, “C’mon, Jamie should have the movie all ready, and everyone else should be here in a minute.”

During the movies, Ella sat curled up in Tyler’s lap. A good majority of the guys were pretty tipsy by the time Beauty and The Beast started, which made their commentary on it pretty hilarious. Ella even got a few of them to sing along to a few songs with her. And was even able to get Jamie to dance around the room with her for a while.

But the whole time you just kept thinking about that kiss, or whatever that was considered. What if he didn’t really want that, or it didn’t mean what you thought it did. Rather than the beginning of something, which scared you, what if it was the end of all of your years together. One final goodbye, a proper one this time. That scared you more than anything.

You tried to push him away for years. You knew that. But it took tonight to make you realize that you didn’t want him out of your life. You needed him. You wanted to go to sleep next to him and wake up with him in the morning. You wanted the late nights and the road trip facetimes. You wanted the life that you’d always planned with him.

You knew that this would be something you would’ve done every weekend, had certain things not happened. The guys would all come over and hang out with Ella, because they all loved her. You’d have family movie nights, just like you’d always planned. Nothing would’ve changed. Maybe, somehow, you and Tyler would’ve had more, and Ella would be a big sister. Maybe a lot of things would’ve happened.

You felt the stab of guilt again. You’d allowed this to happen. You were the one who called it quits. You’d never let yourself forget that. You couldn’t drag Tyler back down again. You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you did. He didn’t need to feel the need to look after you anymore, you could deal with it all on your own. Somehow, you’d find a way. You’d made it this far, you could keep going.

“She’s out cold,” Tyler whispered once everyone else left, “Do you want me to carry her out to the car?”

You nodded, still not daring to look over at him. Even though you knew the sight of Ella curled up, fast asleep in his lap would melt your heart. If you looked, you’d want to stay, and you knew that. You couldn’t stay again, you didn’t have the willpower for it.

So, you followed him out to your car, not daring to say a word as he carefully buckled Ella into her car seat and shut the door behind him. You tried not to think of what the two of you were doing out here just a few hours before. But even just being back out here with him made you want to cry. You wanted it again, but you couldn’t do it.

“Y/N?”

You shut your eyes and shook your head. Whatever conversation was coming next, you didn’t have the strength to have it. In some ways, you were afraid he’d say goodbye, even though it was what you kept telling yourself you wanted. In other ways, you were terrified that he’d say that he still wanted you. You didn’t know how to navigate either of those things.

You felt his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him, “Can you look at me?”

You shook your head again, squeezing your eyes tighter. You could feel the tears running down your cheeks. You could even taste them. All you wanted was to curl into a ball and just disappear. You couldn’t say goodbye to him, you couldn’t look him in the eye. There were a lot of things you couldn’t do, even though you wanted to.

“Please, just look at me,” You could hear his voice break, “Please Y/N.”

“I can’t,” Your voice was barely above a whisper, “I’ll want something I can’t have if I do.”

One hand moved to your cheek, slowly brushing away the tears. That simple thing made you want to cry even more. How could you keep resisting him when he made it so hard? If only he knew that he could break you. You were putty in his hands, all he had to do was say the words.

He leaned down to kiss you again. It was softer this time, slower too. There was no sense of urgency like there had been before. This time it felt like he was trying to convince you of something. Convince you that this could work, that he wanted it to work.

Your hands landed on his shoulders, holding them to keep you steady. If you thought the first kiss was enough to make you dizzy, this kiss would be the end of you. It was like you could feel everything he was trying to convey, and it scared you. But you couldn’t pull away from him, you didn’t want to. You might go to hell for it, but you wanted this.

“Tyler…we can’t. We-”

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised, “When things have gotten better for you, and they get your meds right, we’ll figure it out.”

“Tyler. We…I can’t do this. I don’t want to lose you again. We can’t do this to Ella.”

“I’m here, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere, you can try and push me away all you want, but I’m here. We’ll figure the rest out later.”

You held onto him, afraid to agree to anything right now, but terrified to get in your car and leave. You felt like the world was falling around you, but him and Ella were enough to keep you anchored. With them, you could figure it out. You just didn’t know how to deal with it.

But somehow, he made you believe that somehow the two of you could work it out. Somehow, after the last two years, you could find your way back to each other. Maybe this time you could be better than you were before. You could love each other more, despite being broken. Maybe, somehow, it would be okay.

“I love you,” he whispered to you, “I’m right here. And I love you.”

For now, that was enough.

#tyler seguin imagines #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin fanfic #tyler seguin fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey fanfic #nicolewritesthings

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strohller27 · 4 years

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Just some poetry about what I’m feeling right now...

It’s nothing special, it doesn’t rhyme, and I don’t care what people think of it. It’s not supposed to be great. It’s suppsed to help me vent.

I have spent my life

Wishing I was older

As if I would somehow feel more comfortable

As if it would somehow be better

When I was a child

I wished I was a teenager

Because I thought

If I was a teenager,

I could start making some of my own decisions

When I was a teenager

I wished I was in my twenties

Because I thought

If I was in my twenties,

I would be able to have my own space

My own car, my own house,

My own life

Now I am here,

I’m in my twenties,

With no car,

No house,

No space of my own,

My life is not mine,

And I suddenly wish I was old and retired

Because I think,

Maybe if I was old and retired,

I would have already gone through my life

When the wealth in this country was more evenly distributed

And maybe I could have afforded a nice little one-bedroom house

And a sensible car

And maybe I would have already met the love of my life

And maybe my children would all be grown

And me and my love would go on walks near the beach

And we would read together in bed

And make lunch together

And laugh together

And we wouldn’t have to worry about finances,

Or healthcare

Or our own welfare

But I am still here,

In my late twenties,

And that dream of a life without worry

Seems like an impossibility

If all of that still stands before me

I certainly don’t see it actually coming true

It all feels like a 1960s TV movie

In Technicolour and built on façades

Like it’s a set painted on muslin and plywood

Too easily torn down

It all feels like a comforting fiction

But it’s just not plausible

Not practical

Not real

You see, here I am in my 20s

Living in my parents’ house

Doing the dishes so I can have a roof over my head

But the roof isn’t mine

The dishes aren’t mine

The food that I eat isn’t mine

Not even the bed I sleep in feels like mine

Maybe I have the clothes on my back

And the computer I bought

So I could write my thesis on a keyboard that actually worked

Maybe the hockey equipment I saved up for is mine

And the gaming system I saved up for

And all of the little things I have locked away in a shed

Some plates and cups and silverware

Movies and books

Awaiting the day when ‘I have my shit together’

Of course, my parents keep talking about ‘when you move out’

Like I’m still a teenager,

A fledgling getting ready to ‘leave the nest’

And in the same breath

Will tease me about not giving them grandkids

As if I’m in any position to do so

You see, when I was a child,

I thought by now I would have reached those milestones

My mother was my age when she had me

She was younger than me when she married

She was also kicked out of the house by her mother when she was 18

Because she was supposed to be an adult

It was ‘time’ for her to leave the nest

She was able to find a job and an apartment

And I am grateful for that, I suppose

Because otherwise, I probably wouldn’t exist,

But there’s another side of it

I never asked to be born

But here I am,

Living in the second-bedroom-turned-storage-room in my parent’s house

Feeling like just another thing they’re saving for a rainy day...

Or for when they don’t want to do the dishes

‘That’s what kids are for’ they joke

‘Why else would we have kids?’

When they see my room, my friends teasingly compare me to Harry Potter

Living in his cupboard under the stairs

And I laugh at their jokes, but later

When I’m lying in bed trying to get to sleep

I wonder why my parents have picked now to tease me about not giving them grandkids

When I can’t even survive on my own

My parents say they want me to ‘contribute to the household’

Because working to put yourself through college apparently isn’t enough when you’re living rent-free

But I’m constantly reminded

That this is not my household

And these are not my dreams

And when my mum buys coffee cups ‘for the household’,

She buys two and not three

My parents have their dreams

They are close to retirement

They get to decide how they decorate their house

They get to decide how to live their lives

My life ‘is just beginning’, according to them

‘At least you have your youth’, they tell me

Okay, so I have some inflated sense of being younger than I actually am...

...Thanks?

But I don’t have my space

I don’t have financial stability

I don’t get to decide how I live my life

And you know what?

At heart, I’m an old man living in a beach house with the love of my life

Sending our kids and grandkids birthday cards every year

And the most troubling thing I have to worry about is whether or not the weather will be kind to my garden

Or whether or not the wind will interfere with the get together we want to have with our friends in the back yard

Or whether or not there’ll be a stick and puck session at the local rink this week

And so, you’ll forgive me if I live in a fantasy world

So I can try to experience what I’d like my life to be like

So I get to experience deciding where I’d like to put my dresser

Or what colour to paint my walls

Or hitting all of those milestones that don’t really mean much in the grand scheme of things

But that I somehow still yearn for anyway

Or what it’s like to be old enough

That I can finally rest

That I can finally live

#i know my problems are not that important compared to what’s going on right now but #I have to live with them and they’re getting pretty heavy #people are always telling me i have my whole life ahead of me #but what if I don’t?#if I died tomorrow would I be happy with my life?#the answer is hell no #I know this may seem selfish #but I’m just so tired #I'm tired of 'just making it through today'#and I know so many of us in my generation are facing similar problems #i’m already so burnt out on life #when do I get to rest?#how old do I have to be?

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kyliehorsegirl · 6 years

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She’s a Little Bit Country (Duncan Shepherd x Reader

A/N: This is my first Duncan story. I have only written for Michael, but I love Cody’s characters. Duncan and Michael have such good dynamics (as a writer). I’m sorry that this is so long. I wanted it to be a one shot and not a series. This was a thought that came to me, i was also inspired by a scene in s6 where Claire flashes back to a farm or ranch. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 6782

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

Y/n Underwood, daughter to the president, Claire Underwood. She was beautiful, strong, but silent. She wasn’t fond of politics. She wasn’t Frank’s daughter, her mother and Frank were taking a break early on in their marriage, she had become pregnant with Y/n. Frank wasn’t happy about it, but he had gotten into a relationship during the break as well. When Frank and Claire got back together, she sent Y/n away to live with her father and grandfather. They owned a ranch a few hours from where Frank and Claire lived.

She grew to love that ranch, all the animals, the country life. Her father taught her a lot of life skills. He wasn’t prepared to be a father, but Claire had shipped him a daughter as if he owned a boarding school. Her grandfather taught her all about ranch life, how to ride, how to use a tractor, house work, farming, he taught her all of it. Her father taught her cars, how to change oil, how to fix headlights etc. He taught her how to fix appliances and electrical. She learned life skills with her father.

Like any young teen with not a lot of involvement from another parent, she went through a rebel phase. Dark makeup, dark hair, dark clothes. Her father and grandfather didn’t know how to handle a teenage girl. Her father was always stressing, not knowing what to do. Her grandfather would say;

“Stop being a sniveling whine baby on the high seas, and tend to the ranch.” He always had silly mannerisms like that. It was always what Y/n needed to hear. Whenever she was feeling down, she would saddle up one of the horses and go for a ride. She would come back and apologize for being a brat. Both her grandfather and father knew, it was hard for a young girl to not have her mother.

Things changed when her grandfather fell ill. No matter how strong he was, he couldn’t beat cancer.

“Fuck the chemo.” He would say, and continue to work the ranch until he couldn’t get out of bed. He refused medical help.

“Grandpa please, let us get you help.” Y/n sat on his bed holding one of his hands.

“O peanut, you know I don’t want that. I am happy as long as I’m on our ranch with you and your father.” His gruff voice was clear in the air. His stubbornness never ceased to amaze her. She could only wish she had the strength of her grandfather. Tears would start to fall from her face, but not before her grandfather had something to say about it.

“Don’t cry for me kiddo, you’re wasting your tears.” She would sniffle and hold the tears back.

After he died, things were different. Her father had to hire extra help. He found good workers who were willing to move into the ranch. There were small one room apartments throughout. Her father hired a few family friends willing to help manage the ranch.

She got her shit together and graduated high school with a 4.0. Her father would try to contact Claire in Y/n’s milestones, she never showed.

“Claire please? Y/n is graduating. She had a 4.0 You should be here.” He whispered in the phone the day before graduation.

“I’m sorry Darren, I’m busy.” Claire would say into the phone, no matter what the milestone.

“You’re always too busy Claire.” He would say harshly into the phone before there was a long pause. Seconds later the line would go dead.

Darren always encouraged Y/n to pursue college, get a career. She went to college for business management and journalism. During her senior year of college Claire decided to take interest in her, for the first time in a long time.

“Please Darren, let me talk to her.” Claire said over the phone.

“I don’t think she wants to talk to you Claire.” He was irritated, hurt.

“Please.” She sounded helpless, for the first time in a long time.

“I don’t want to dad.” Y/n folded her arms leaning up against a wall. Darren put her on mute.

“Y/n, just talk to her, she’s your mother.” He said halfheartedly. Y/n rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the wall making way to her dad.

“What do you want?” There was a long pause.

“Y/n? Its good to hear your voice.” Claire took a sigh of relief.

“I’ll repeat what I said, what do you want?” Y/n said more harshly.

“I, I’m sorry for not seeing you or being in your life, I want to make a change.” Y/n didn’t say anything. “I know that you have been studying business management and journalism. I want to offer you a job.”

“Which is?” Y/n didn’t want to give her the time of day, however, curiosity got the better of her.

“I have been in politics for some time now and I am running for president.” Y/n let out a laugh.

“Really now? You’re crazier than I thought you were.” Claire sighed through the phone.

“I know, the job I am offering you is in your line of degree, both social media and journaling. I would want you to be the one to be there for me. I can offer you good pay, a car, an apartment, everything you need.”

“What makes you think I want that from you?” She said harshly once again.

“Please Y/n? Give me a chance? I will pay off your student loans, pay for the rest of your schooling. I want to be a part of your life.” Y/n looked to her father and put the phone on mute.

“I think you should go for it. The ranch will always be here waiting for you, I will be here waiting for you.” Until he wasn’t.

Y/n accepted the job with Claire, she finished her schooling and drove to see her mom. Shortly after, her father became very I’ll. Y/n left to see him before he took his last breathes. Darren left the ranch to Y/n. Their family friends agreed to manage it while she was away with her mom.

Claire had announced Y/n as her daughter to the press. Press became very interested in her back story, but failed to find anything when Claire forced Y/n to legally change her last name to Underwood. It felt like a stab in the back to her father, but she agreed to keep her personal life safe.

Over time, she learned how things worked in the world of politics, getting to know the shepherds, she learned how to carry herself, how to talk and how to dress. She was forced to rid her country clothes for pencil skirts and pantsuits. Media was drawn to her, this elusive woman who showed up out of nowhere.

“How many people do you have there Duncan?” Annette asked over the phone.

“Not many.” Duncan Shepherd spoke to his mom. He looked out among the party the managed to stay alive without him. Y/n made her way out of the bathroom seeing Duncan on the phone.

“I need to go mom.” He hung up the phone and made his way to Y/n. He stopped in front of her causing her to jolt.

“Hello Duncan.” She spoke chaste. Her mom had been working her to the bone, when Duncan wanted to throw a party Annette suggested inviting Y/n. Outwardly he acted as if he was put out inviting her, but inwardly, he wanted to. Ever since Claire brought Y/n into the picture, Duncan was fascinated by her. She came up out of nowhere. She was beautiful and mysterious. There was something about her that she wasn’t telling others, he was attracted to that.

He would never admit he was attracted to her, but he was.

“I’m glad you could make it. Would you like a drink?” He offered cocking his head to the side. Her lips tight as she took a breath.

“Um, sure. I’m here because my mother actually believed I needed a break.” A pause. “Almost insulting.” She mumbled.

“Well, we all need a break. What would you like?” He made his way to the kitchen gesturing her with him.

“Whiskey, on the rocks.” Her mom warned her about the Shepherds, as much good as they have done for the Underwoods, never trust a Shepherd she would say. She watched him pour her drink, he wouldn’t do anything right? Her mom said she could go out, but to watch herself. Don’t get drunk and don’t party. There was secret service throughout the inside and outside of the home.

He passed the drink to her, she hesitantly accepted.

“Everyone deserves a break.” He took a sip of his own cocktail.

“I suppose. I can’t be here long, I do have work to do.” She swirls her drink around.

“Always busy. I bet it’s exhausting in your head.” He smirked, taking another sip.

“Jesus Duncan.” She scrunched her face taking a gulp of her drink.

“Relax Y/n, it’s a joke, you know what that is right?” He laughed at her defensiveness. She shook her head and finished her drink short of slamming on the counter.

“I’m not going to sit here and be insulted by you Shepherd.” She turns to leave in a huff, the secret service at the door waiting for her.

“Y/n wait, lighten up. You’re too stressed.” She stopped walking, irritated, fists clenched at her side. “Please stay.” He pleaded, she took a deep breath and looked at him over her shoulder.

Hours later, everyone else had already left, leaving just Y/n and Duncan. She was helping him clean up, much to his shock.

“This was my party, you don’t need to clean up.” He insisted, both of them with trash bags in their hands.

“No one needs to be left with a mess, not even you.” She let a small smirk slip her lips, not to go unnoticed by him.

“Wow I’m touched.” He put a hand over his heart laughing, causing her to smile in response. Of course, she found him attractive, she wasn’t an idiot. She wouldn’t be an idiot an encourage his ego though.

Once they had cleaned up, they were seated on the couch with another cocktail.

“How do you feel about all this?” Duncan asked out of the blue.

“How do I feel about this? About what?” She asked, wanting to set her cocktail down.

“Your mom, being president.” He threw an arm over the couch and tilted his head like a puppy. She looked at him, searching for some type of, fakeness? He waited, waited for her answer, patiently.

“I’m, happy for her.” She tried to make that sound like a smooth sentence and failed.

“Is that what she wants you to say?” He crossed his legs and raised a brow at her. Her mouth opened and closed slightly like a fish out of water. She huffed and got up to place the glass in the kitchen.

“I think it’s time that I leave.” She had rushed out. He gets up and follows her to the kitchen. She felt his presence slightly behind her.

“You can have your own opinion you know.” He whispered, way to close for her liking.

“Thank you for the drinks Duncan, I need to go, it’s getting late.” She briskly walked to the front door, where the secret service had been waiting patiently for her.

“I’m so sorry for the wait guys.” She placed a hand on their arms. Duncan strutted in the middle of the entry way.

“See you later Y/n.” He called out to her, she assumed threateningly. She refused to respond, with that, she left.

Y/n laid in her bed, in her room at the white house. Many nights she would lay, numb, wanting to go back to the time at the ranch, with her father and grandfather, but they were gone.

Y/n had her own office at the white house, she typed away at her laptop, writing statements for her mom. She liked to work alone, she didn’t like press or people. She begged for her mom to let her work alone.

“Y/n, your mother has requested you.” She looked up from her laptop, her glasses showing the reflection of the light. She sighed, removing her glasses and saving the document she was working on. She followed the SS to her mom.

“You needed me?” She questioned as her mom came into view.

“Yes, we are going to meet with the Shepherds to go over the bill.” Claire straightened her outfit, meeting her daughter.

Once at the Shepherds, she tried so hard to pay attention, but she still ended up tuning out the conversation. That is until Duncan showed up, her attention went to him as he walked into the room.

“Duncan, so nice of you to join us.” Annette stated, giving him a look. He gave her an apologetic glance as he took a seat close to Y/n. She looked at him in the corner of her eye, catching the smile he gave her.

After the meeting Annette and Claire were talking as Bill disappeared somewhere. Duncan made his way to Y/n.

“Sorry about the other night. I wasn’t trying to offend you.” She squinted at him, not trusting his apology.

“Well, not like I’m not used to that.” She shrugged it off.

“Let me take you to coffee, as an apology.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

“Coffee? As an apology?” She questioned him.

“Yeah, I am sorry even if you don’t want to believe me.” His face seemed genuine, but she was still unsure. She looked at him for a moment before smirking at him.

“Fine, but I pick the place.” His eyes lite up with her acceptance to his offer.

“Are you fucking kidding me.” He deadpanned. She laughed, like actually laughed. She hadn’t done that in a while.

“O come on, you gotta admit its funny.” She snickered as they walked in to the coffee shop. He gave one last look to the ‘Dunkin Donuts’ sign before he followed her in. They ordered their coffee and donuts of course, before finding a table in the back corner.

“You’re an ass Y/n.” He rolled his eyes at her.

“Have you even been here before?” She smiled at him taking a bite of her powdered donut.

“No, I don’t go to places like this.” His eyes dart to her lips, seeing some powder next to them.

“I’m calling you donut know, I hope you know that.” He sighs and shakes his head. Looking at her again he sees the powder still on her face.

“You got a little.” He tries to gesture at her face.

“What?” She asks.

“Here.” He takes his thumb to the corner of her mouth, gently wiping away the powder. She stays silent, looking at him curiously.

“Thanks.” She says quietly. He offers her a smile in return. After that, he asked her to coffee once a week, always going to Dunkin Donuts. Whenever she called him Donut, he acted like he hated it. He would never admit he loved the pet name she gave him.

With every coffee date they grew closer and closer. They tried to keep it from their parents not wanting them to know. However, Claire knew. She never mentioned it to Y/n, although she felt a bit betrayed.

They had graduated from Dunkin and started going on real dates. Duncan took her to dinner several times, making very small gestures any time he could. One of their dinner dates, he placed his hands over hers. Her heart jumped to her throat. She felt like a school girl again.

Duncan had taken her to the park one evening walking side by side. Their hands would brush occasionally, he subtly touched her fingers before they intertwined their hands. The gesture caused Y/n to blush. A man-made lake was beside them, a reflection of the moon rippling through the water. Duncan stopped and pulled her near him. He faced her and grabbed the other hand.

“Y/n, I just want to say, I really like you. I don’t want our parents to be a factor in any decisions, we have the right to make our own choices. I want you in my life, not in a political way, fuck politics. Will you be my girlfriends?” He asked her carefully, clearly nervous. She thought for a moment, increasing his anxiety. She smiled up at him.

“I like you too Duncan, I would love to be your girlfriend.” He smiled widely, his hands let go of her as he gently brings his hand to cup her face, they look at each other, leaning in slowly. He kisses her, she deepens the kiss, placing a hand on his chest. He ended the kiss and held her close to him.

They had agreed to keep their relationship quiet, due to their moms’ frenemy circumstance. Claire knew about the relationship too though. Claire never said anything to Y/n. She kept it to herself, until she needed to say something.

Y/n would spend several days at Duncan’s house, given that he couldn’t exactly come to the white house. He offered for her to have things at his house that would make her comfortable. He made room in a bathroom cabinet for her toiletries, he gave her a dresser for some clothes and gave her room on a book shelf for some of her quick reads.

At this point that had been dating for several months. Claire refused to bring it up, but Annette began questioning Duncan. He was spending more time ‘alone’ and less time on the campaign.

“Duncan, what’s going on with you? Your focus isn’t where it used to be.” She said over the phone. He looks down to see Y/n asleep in his lap. The movie they were watching had ended before his mother called.

“I’m doing fine mom, I needed some time to myself. I’ll get back in the swing of things.” He spoke softly, hoping to not wake a sleeping Y/n.

“Figure it out Duncan, it better be soon.” She hung up after that. Y/n began to stir awake.

“I should probably get going. I haven’t been home in two days.” She sat up from his lap, rubbing the tired from her eyes.

“I know, it’s the weekend though.” He held her tight, not wanting to let her go. She just laughed and gently pushed him away.

“I need to go love, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She kissed him on the lips and got ready to leave.

“I love you.” He called out quietly, almost hoping she didn’t hear him. She stopped and turned around, looking at him with wide eyes. He clenched his jaw in nervousness, until he saw her smile. She walked up to him and looked up into his eyes.

“I love you too Donut.” Duncan rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss her. He gripped her hips, wanting to go further.

“I need to go, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She moved away from him and left his house.

“You wanted to see me?” Y/n walked into her mother’s room. Claire looked up from the book she was reading, setting it down and taking her glasses off.

“Yes, I want to ask you something.” She waited patiently as Y/n made her way across the room, sitting on her mother’s bed.

“What is it?” Tilting her head at her mom.

“Are you with Duncan?” Claire looked into her eyes, expecting her to lie.

“Why?” Y/n’s heart began to race.

“Just answer the question.” She wanted to hear her say it, she already knew.

“Yes, I am, does that matter?” Y/n spoke carefully.

“I told you not to trust a Shepherd Y/n.” Her mother was disappointed in her.

“Duncan is-“

“Don’t say he is different, he is just like his mother, a snake.” Claire interrupted her. Y/n began to get angry.

“He is, just because you and Annette have issues doesn’t mean you need to take it out on us.” Claire shook her head at her.

“You better watch your back Y/n, he can turn on you at any time.” She warned. Y/n kept her mouth shut, not knowing what to say. She left without bidding her mother a goodnight.

She laid in bed, thinking for a long time, she didn’t know what to do. She truly loved Duncan, but now her mom knew. Would she make it a problem for her?

The next day, an agenda was presented on Y/n’s desk. She skimmed through it, seeing all the work she had to do, along with a short deadline. She wanted to fight her mom, she did this on purpose. Her mother was the president, she needed these documents done, even if it was done on purpose.

Y/n typed away at her computer for hours before her phone buzzed.

‘Hey love, everything ok? I haven’t heard from you.’ Duncan.

‘Yeah I’m ok, my mom gave me a bunch of work to do with a short deadline. She knows about us.’

‘How did she find out?’ he texted after a small pause.

‘She already knew, but questioned me last night. She’s trying to keep me busy.’

‘Of course, she is. Come over later. I’ll make you dinner.’

‘I don’t know if I will be done in time. Don’t you have to work on the campaign?’

‘I’ve already been working on it. I’ll wait for you. Just let me know when you’re free ok?’ She smiled at his thoughtfulness.

‘I love you Donut.’

‘Love you too. I’ll see you tonight.’ She put her phone away and continued typing for another several hours.

Y/n packed some things she needed and got ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” Her mother stopped her.

“You want me to be honest? Fine. I’m going to see Duncan.” She walked past her mom, before she called out again.

“What about the work Y/n? There is a deadline.” Without looking back, she responded.

“I finished it.” With that she walked out the door, leaving Claire speechless.

She walked into Duncan’s seeing him in the kitchen. He was wearing a nice black t-shirt. She knew the shirt, it was so soft, not like a normal shirt that was thick and rough. He looked over to her and smiles. Y/n walks behind Duncan wrapping her arms around him, laying her head on his back.

“What ever you’re making smells amazing.” She nuzzled further into his back. He laughs and brings a hand to hers.

“I am making lamp chomps with a cranberry glaze.” He turns around wrapping his arms around her now.

“Holy shit, that sounds fantastic.” He cocks an eyebrow at her, hardly hearing her swear. “A bit fancy don’t you think?” She laughed looking up at him. He shrugged in response. Y/n helped set the table as he continued to prepare the food.

“I’m sorry you’ve had a rough day love; your mom shouldn’t treat you that way.” He reached a hand over the table grabbing hers. He rubbed a thumb over her knuckles reassuringly.

“Its ok Donut, she can’t hold me back. I finished everything before I came here.” Y/n stated matter of fact. Leaning back in her seat, taking a swig of her drink.

“All of it? Like the week’s work?” He questioned shockingly, she hummed in response. He was impressed.

After dinner the two of them made their way to the couch, drinks in hand. They were in the middle of a movie when Duncan placed a hand on her bare thigh. He grazed his thumb over her soft skin. She glanced down carefully. The hand slowly starts to run up and down her thigh. She intentionally ignores him, continuing to watch the movie. He leans in close and begins kissing her shoulder, her neck and her jawline, alternating between them. He caught her attention.

Her eyes close as she moans softly. The mental note ‘fuck it’ rolls through her mind as she straddles his lab. His eyes go wide before they go dark and lustful. She places hands on his shoulders as she crashes her lips into his. Duncan grabs her hips firmly, pulling them to him. She tilts her head, deepening the kiss. He swipes his tongue over her bottom lip, asking for entrance. Once she grants it, their tongues dance together fighting for dominance.

She grinded her hips into his, causing him to groan. He broke the kiss after some time.

“Do you want to stop?” Both of them breathing hard. She looked at him for a moment trying to catch her breath.

“No.” She shook her head and smashed her lips back onto his. Throwing an arm around his neck and bring a hand to the back of his neck. He pulls her thighs closer to him as he lifts them off the couch. She gasps, but doesn’t stop kissing and touching him, tangling her fingers in her hair. He supports under her thighs as she wraps her legs around his waist.

He brings them to the bedroom and gently tosses her on the bed. He strips off his shirt as he crawls on top of her. She shimmies out of her top, bringing him to her. Hands on either side of his face, pulling him into a kiss. His muscles ripple as he moves to mark her neck. He sucks and bites low enough on her neck, it wouldn’t be visible with the right clothing. She moans in response.

Duncan kisses down her stomach before he reaches the hem of her shorts, he unbuttons them, yanking them off and throwing them somewhere in the room. He sits back to unbutton his own pants as she removes her bra. Once his boxers are gone, he crawls back to her, removing her panties with a single swipe.

He takes a nipple in his mouth as he stimulates the other rolling her bud between his fingers. She moans, digging her nails into his back. He makes his way down her body, head nestled in between her thighs. He gives a kiss to her entrance, causing her to shutter. His hands roam her body, feeling every inch of her. His tongue darts out to separate her folds. He licks her thoroughly, her juices beginning to spill out of her.

He pushes two fingers into her, making her arch her back. She throws her head into the pillows, eyes closing in pleasure. He removes his fingers from her as he lines himself up at your entrance.

“Are you ready?” He asks with a husky deep voice. She nods and nods vigorously.

“Yes.” She breaths out. He plunges himself into her. He groans loudly, enjoying the feeling of being inside her for the first time. He places a kiss down onto her neck before finding his rhythm and thrusting into her. She meets his thrusts by lifting her hips in sync.

“Fuck, Y/n.” His deep voice hazed with need. He thrusts harder, faster.

“Duncan, faster.” He fucks her harder. “Oh my god.” Her eyes close again, she grips him harder, causing marks.

“I’m gonnna cum.” She holds him close and lets him cum inside her. She too has her own release, they let out a sting of moans, once they both found their release.

He rolls off of, laying beside her. He pulls her close to him and the two of them are silent in content. Their first time with each other.

“I love you Y/n.” He kisses her forehead and pulls her close.

“I love you too.” The two fell fast asleep. Y/n felt her stress melt away after today.

Claire was pushing Y/n and working her to the bone. She found more and more documents for her to write up. Y/n beat every deadline and obstacle her mom threw at her. Duncan could tell it was wearing on her. The more she worked the more he could see how tired she was getting. She had bags under her eyes, she wasn’t eating properly. When meetings occurred, Y/n could barely keep herself awake, or she zoned out.

She would go to Duncan’s, where he forced her to eat. She tried to refuse before he said she was being silly and she would eat or else. She was always tried. However, she made time for Duncan as much as she could. By this time, Annette found out about them, she was mad at first at Duncan, then grew concerned for Y/n. Claire was working her to death.

“Ease up on her Claire, they’re kids.” Annette tried to get Claire to ease up, but to no avail. Claire grew irritated, irritated and jealous. She had no right to be jealous of her daughter’s attention. Maybe if she would have invested in her daughter during her younger years, she wouldn’t feel this way.

Finally, Y/n had her breaking point. It came when she was sitting at her office once again, typing away for her mother. Claire came in personally to deliver another assignment. When she placed in on her desk Y/n instantly stopped typing. She looked at the folder with disgust. She slowly blinked up at her mother.

“What the fuck is that.” She spoke carefully and hatefully. Claire’s mouth gaped open like a fish out of water, in utter shock by her daughter’s bluntness.

“I, it’s another assignment due at the end of the week.” Claire spoke carefully, unsure of her daughter’s reaction. Y/n’s breath grew heavy as the anger built deep within her, waiting to explode. This was her breaking point. She stood abruptly and slide everything off the desk with a sweep of her arms. Her laptop crashed to the ground and papers went flying.

“Fuck you.” She spat at her mother. “I’m taking a break.” She shoved past her mom and sent a quick text to Duncan. She sent him the address of a parking garage.

‘meet me here in 20 minutes. Pack a bag and where something casual. We are taking a break from politics.’ She shoved her phone in her pocket as changed and quickly packed a bag. With that, she sped away to the garage.

‘see you there.’ He knew not to question her.

She waited by a vehicle that was covered in canvas. She leaned up against a cement beam, smoking a cigarette. She saw him pull up. She pushed herself away from the beam and snuffed out the cigarette.

“Hey, I came as soon as I could, are you ok?” He rushed to her pulling her in a tight hug.

“I’m fucking done, Duncan. I want to take a break and I want you to come with me.” She looked up to him pleading, half expecting him to say no.

“Of course, my love. I know you need a break.” He held her face and looked at her for a moment before nodding. She moved to the vehicle and tore off the canvas, revealing an old pick up truck, Ford 1988. Duncan looked at it like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. They hopped in the truck and she turned over the key. She smiled in memory, feeling the rumble of the truck and the rev of the engine. He looked at her, full of awe.

The drove for a long while before Duncan finally asked where they were going. He wanted to give her time and space before saying anything.

“Love, where are we going?” He looked at her after taking a long stare on the open road in front of him.

“There is a part of my life that you don’t know about.” She spoke soft, her tension has all but melted away. He waited for her to continue.

“My mother didn’t raise me, she didn’t keep me hidden away the way she tells the media. Frank and my mother took a break early on in their career. During that time, she created a relationship with my father, he was a farmer far beyond the city limits. She became pregnant with me, she wanted power in politics, not a child. She stayed with my father until I could be left alone, I wasn’t even a year old when she left.

“My father was left to take care of an infant alone, he did have my grandfather though. They had to run the family ranch while caring for me. She never checked up on me. Any milestone in my life he would call her, but she would never come see me.

“When I went into college, I was studying business management and journalism. My grandfather had passed making it hard on my father and I. In my senior year of college, my mother called me. She wanted to enlist me into helping her. I left after I got my degree. When I accepted the job, shortly after my father grew ill, he passed not long after. I went to see him, I was there for his last breath.

“My mom kept me so busy I haven’t been able to visit the ranch until now. My father’s name was Darren.”

The whole time his eyes were on her. He sees her hands grip the steering wheel. She was fighting tears, but she remembered what her grandfather said to her.

‘Don’t cry for me kiddo’ she held it in. Duncan placed a reassuring hand on her thigh. Y/n offered him a smile.

“Enough of this sad shit. We have another hour drive. How about some music?” He smiled and nodded at her. She found some old cassettes and put one in.

“80’s rock?” He laughed as the song blared through the truck.

“My dad taught me a lot, like having a good taste in music.” She smiled at him, he held her free hand. He became more and more amazed with her by the second. An hour later they pulled into the ranch. It was a lot bigger than he thought and he wasn’t exactly dressed for it.

“I don’t really have the right clothes.” He looked at her, she was in ripped jeans, some vans, t-shirt and a leather jacket.

“I said dress casual not Gucci.” She shook her head at him.

“This is casual.” He tried to deflect.

“I guess I should have said Walmart.” He rolled his eyes at her and laughed. She parked the truck outside a run-down ranch home. As they got out of the truck a man came trotting up to her, she jogged meeting him the rest of the way.

“Dottie!” She threw her arms around his neck and he spun her around. Duncan couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of jealously even though Dottie was a lot older than them.

“Dottie, this is Duncan my boyfriend, Duncan, this is Dottie an old family friend. He runs the ranch.” The men shook hands and nodded to each other.

“Missed you kiddo. You look great.” He ruffled her hair and she pushed him, laughing.

“I’ll let you two get settled and then I’ll have supper ready.” He gave her a kiss on the head. Duncan looked around the house. This was so much different than the type of houses he was used to. This felt like a home, it smelled like a home. There were scratches on the hardwood, paint missing in small areas, dents in the walls. It was a breath of fresh air for him. He never realized this was the kind of home he wanted, he needed.

At supper, Dottie told Duncan stories of when Y/n was younger. Causing Duncan to laugh and Y/n to blush with embarrassment. Duncan had never had a real family meal. He truly loved it and seeing Y/n, made him love it more.

The next few days flew by like a movie. Y/n taught him how to ride, grooming the horses, tacking them up. She let him borrow some of her dad’s old clothes and boots. They rode for hours at a time, Duncan rode a bay Quarter horse gelding named Bo and Y/n rode a sorrel Quarter horse mare named River.

Their mornings consisted of going out to the chicken coop and getting fresh eggs for breakfast. They were happy.

One morning Duncan woke up to an empty bed, he looked out to see Y/n outside the French doors of the bedroom, looking out into the sunrise. A crème cardigan wrapped around her, keeping her warm in the cool morning air. Duncan got up and made his way behind her, engulfing her in his arms, laying his head on her shoulder. She leaned into him with a deep sigh.

“I miss my dad.” She whispered. Duncan gave her a gentle kiss on her shoulder.

“I know love.” They looked out into the sunrise together.

They said their goodbyes to Dottie as they made there way back to the city. The drive back was melancholy.

Back at the white house, Claire acted like she was excited to see Y/n. She ignored her and went to her room.

A few days later, Y/n became sick. She had thrown up in the middle of the night. She spoke to no one when she made an errand in the dark of the night. A test. She waited the several minutes.

Positive.

She started sobbing. She burnt the test and lay in her bed silent. That morning someone came to retrieve her, she told them she was sick and that she was taking a day off. She was silent the entire day. Her mother came to pay her a visit. She tried asking how she was feeling and if she was ok. She rolled over and ignored her mother. Claire left without another word.

She contemplated abortion, not even telling Duncan. He didn’t deserve that. He had been so good to her.

When he hadn’t heard from her in a few days he called.

“Is everything alright?” She heard though the phone.

“I need to talk to you; can we go to the park?” She was timid. He felt a sickening feeling grow in the pit of his stomach. Did the time at the ranch mean something different to her than it did to him?

“Sure.” She couldn’t hear the shakiness in his voice.

She met him at the park, standing by a tree near the lake. She was nervous, her demeanor was almost off putting. He approached her with caution. She looked to him with tears in her eyes. He wanted to cradle her and tell her everything would be ok, he wanted to take the pain away.

“I’m pregnant.” She whispered. She looked to his eyes, unable to read him. She looked down and let the tears fall. She was caught off guard when he pulled her into a tight hug. He held her face as she looked to him in confusion. A smile broke out on his face.

“If you will have me, I would love to be the father.” He began to tear up in happiness. Her face went soft, smiling back at him.

“Really?” She said in disbelief. She couldn’t imagine anyone else to have kids with.

“Yes, I love you Y/n. You have showed me a whole new world. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” She put a hand to her mouth as he got down on one knee. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot and the time at the ranch made me realize, I can’t imagine my life without you. Will you marry me?”

He opened a black velvet box to reveal a subtle silver ring, adorned with one small stone. Tears poured from her eyes.

“Yes! Yes, I will. I love you so much Duncan.” He put the ring on her finger before he picked her up and spun her around. He lifted her in the air and brought her down for a loving kiss.

Neither of their moms were pleased with them, they both gave them a fuck you and told them to find new employees.

They had a small wedding with a few of their close friends, including Dottie. Y/n wore a simple silk strapless dress. Duncan wore a head to toe black suit. They drove off in her old pick up truck to the farm. They started a new life there.

Y/n gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. They named her Darcy in honor of her father Darren. A few years later they had a boy named (boy name you like). They lived the rest of their lives on the ranch, happier than ever. No politics, no drama. Y/n was happy to get back to her roots and Duncan was happy to Start a new life.

*********

Hope you enjoyed the fluffy ending!!!!! I had alot of fun writing this!

Any Duncan stories will be added to my Langdon MASTERLIST in their own category.

Duncan Taglist

@hearteyesshelby @the-temple-pythoness @envyskitty @takemetoneverland420 @skullchik89 @0hmylangdon @santanicoss @scarletraine @quacksonbarnes @okokbucky @wildewallflower @boo-youwhoreee @winterofherdiscontent

#Duncan shepherd x reader #Duncan shepherd #house of cards #Hoc #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #ahs #cody fern #michael langdon x fem!reader

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hexhux · 5 years

Text

My Eighteenth Birthday

Friday, May 3rd, 2019.

An open letter to everyone who has ever loved me. A recap of the year.

Today, I turned eighteen years old. I can’t help but feel incredibly lucky to be here. I’m sure many others who suffer from long-term mental illness can relate, but it is not always a given to make it this far. I have so much farther to go, but because this is such a milestone, I wanted to take a moment to step back and give my thanks to those in my life who have offered their hand to me. This life has been as joyous and wonderful as it has been cruel. For all the times I have sobbed my heart out, grieving and ashamed, I have found an equal amount of pure, forgiving laughter. To everyone, thank you so much.

One of the most important things I have learned so far is to appreciate the small things. To the setting sun, to the flowers called weeds, to the soft sheets, to the warm baths - thank you. To the moon, the stars, the midnight sky - thank you. To the emotional movies, to the memes on the internet, to the books I’ve read a thousand times - thank you. These are the things I have cultivated and loved, even when I thought the sun wouldn’t shine on me any longer. To quote one of my favorite movies of all time, Swiss Army Man, “Everything everywhere matters to everything.” It truly does. Forever. Always.

Grandma: you are the most important person in my life. From the very day I was born, you have been there. Through every stomach ache, nightmare, and painful thought, you have pieced me back together. You taught me what love truly was. Dedication. Sincerity. Empowerment. On all the days I could not love myself, you loved me twice as much. I found true friendship with you. You are the most generous, forgiving, and wholly enveloping person I know. Regardless of whether or not I am happy or sad, your face is the one I want to see. You match me in passion, pride, and persistence. I cannot tell you how much I love you because words do not come close to the feeling inside my heart. Thank you for being my best friend, for the advice, the comfort, and all the times you thoroughly read my fanfiction. You have supported my art and my dreams since the beginning. Thank you, mama.

Ethan: Firstly, let me ask a very, very important question, little brother. Do you have a mic? I’m kidding (lmao). I could not have a better brother. You were my first playmate, my partner in crime, and the person who was always by my side. Never once have we stopped playing. Every moment with you is one of belly-aching laughter and jokes. You bring an incredible light to the life of anyone who knows you. You’re level-headed, compassionate, and the funniest person I know. We’re so similar, but even in our differences, we’ve supported one another fully. You are my other half and I love you so dearly that it’s nearly laughable. You’re an absolute buffoon sometimes, but I’d take you over anyone else any day.

Collin: Ah, yes, my stupid woke best friend. You are the sweetest, kindest person I have ever met. The only person who asks retail workers about their day, even if they clearly hate their job. Nobody else has ever made quite such a dedication to getting to know me. You know the most about me, even if admitting that is embarrassing because the vast majority of my secrets are odd and cringe-worthy. We have been through so many challenges, but we have always made it through because we have a connection unlike no other. You are such a beautiful, encapsulating human being. The bond we have is incomparable to any other, and I cannot thank you enough for being my friend. It isn’t often you meet someone who wants all of you, not just the good parts. You have loved me through the misfortune. And I want you to know that I will forever be there for you. It is an honor to know you, Collin.

Nits: We may have met by chance, but there is nothing accidental about our friendship. I have never encountered someone like you before - someone so bold, strong, and gorgeous. That summer we spent every day together, entangled by movies, music, and a growing fondness that would last forever. To be loved by you is such a gift. Nobody deserves you. I have never so desperately wanted to see someone succeed. We are intertwined and will be forever, I truly hope. You have held my hand and helped me through the bad times, just as I’ve held yours. You are an enigmatic, wondrous, and hopeful soul. Thank you for seeing me for who I am, even when I myself didn’t know who that was at times.

Kiesha: Your comfort and reassurance is never-ending. You have such a warm, broad presence. We have known each other for such a long time and have managed to grow in the same direction. So much love, laughter and acceptance has been cultivated between us. I cannot thank you enough for all those nights spent talking on the phone late at night. For all the times you answered my calls when I was crying after a bad dream and needed another person to exist with me. For all the beta-reading, spelling checks, and long-reading sessions. Thank you for being there and for being the Wade Wilson to my Peter Parker.

Nova: I have never met another person so similar to myself. You’ve given me so much comfort in my identity and existence. You are a lovely, sugary sweet human being, even when you’re badass. You have such a fierce and generous energy, which has enraptured me since the moment we met. We met through hard circumstances, but I believe it was worth it because we found each other. I would relive it a hundred times if you were still standing at the end of it. Our love for one another is so nurturing and wholesome, and I wouldn’t give it up for all the money in the world. Thank you for your friendship, generosity, and patience. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you. Probably throw a fit.

Nikki: You are seriously one of the most interesting people I have ever met. You’re so hilarious, so intriguing, and so sincere. I couldn’t ask for a better friend. Your presence is one I’ll never forget and hope to never live without. I will always hold my hand out to you because I know you’d do the same for me. You’re such a supportive, kind, and affectionate person. You don’t give yourself enough credit for how fuckin’ amazing you are. I’m very glad to call you my friend, and I can’t thank you enough for being mine. You matter so much to me. Thank you for all the playlists, passion, and crude jokes.

Cierra: You are such a beautiful, darling person. We have grown so much together and I could not be happier to call you my friend. Ever since I was a child, I dreamed of having a friend like the teenage girls in the coming of age movies. The type of friendship where you gush about boys, share all of your dreams and uplift each other to the highest degree. I feel so much happiness talking to you, even if it's about nothing at all. You have supported me so thoroughly and have always been such a gentle, soft girl. I am so proud to call you my friend. For all the times we gushed over Tom Holland, thank you.

J: From the very moment we met, we’ve had intense and bold chemistry. You’re so funny and so wise, even if sometimes I want to beat you with a stick. Your love and dedication for me have been such a pleasure. I love that we can spend hours on the phone - talking about everything and nothing at all. You’ve always been there to support me, even in times when I felt too weak to go on. Your love for me has been so enveloping, and I hope you know that I love you just as much. Thank you for giving me the courage to remove toxic people from my life. Thank you for remembering the little things about me. And most of all, thank you for also indulging in my love for oldies beach music. You’re wonderful.

Aisu, Amanda, Sky, and Reez: My wonderful squad! You guys are endlessly supportive, hilarious, and fantastic human beings. Never in my life have I felt so brave and safe with a group of people. It is truly an honor to log onto Twitter and talk to such honest, fantastic friends. No matter what I’m talking about, you guys are always there to encourage me. Through all my writing, my artwork, my strange fantasies - you guys have been there. For all the support of my Kylo Ren fetish, my love for Slenderman, and random infatuations with villians, thank you so much. From the bottom of my heart, I love y’all.

To myself: You’ve made it this far. I know that some days you succumb to the pain, the insecurity, the anguish, but you have truly been so brave. Every time that you’ve fallen, you’ve pushed yourself from the ground and stood on your feet once more. Against all odds, you have made it to eighteen. You are strong. You are smart. You are brave. Even on the days when you wished you were someone else, or gone completely, you have bandaged your wounds and taken care of yourself. I am so proud of you. For once in my life, I am happy to be who I am. I am happy to be you. To inhabit this body. Thank you for never once giving up on yourself, even when you so desperately wanted to. Thank you so much.

I learned so much during my year as seventeen. It hasn’t been easy by any means; there were so many times when I wanted to let go of it all. Recovering from severe depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder has been a long, arduous process. I’ve been in therapy for nearly a full year now, and I’ve come so far in examining my trauma and understanding how to live with it. This year, I’ve done my best to step out of my comfort zone and allow myself to flourish as much as possible. This life can be complicated and heartbreaking, but it’s worth it all. For all the happiness, the love, the sweetness.

Finally, I’d like to list the songs that I’ve played a billion times and have been the biggest comfort.

1. Mariners Apartment Complex by Lana Del Rey

2. O Superman by Laurie Anderson

3. Allentown by Manchester Orchestra & The Front Bottoms

4. I’ll Still Have Me by CYN

5. Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd

Thank you to everyone. For everything.

“Knowing at last what I am, recognizing it, admitting it, confronting it,” - Anaïs Nin

#tate hyperventilates #friends #long post #18th birthday #mental illness tw

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thehonestmommy · 5 years

Text

What I wish people told me about postpartum life

There is a TON of advise and guidance on what to expect when you are pregnant. Theres even more about how to handle every little cough, hiccup, and milestone that your baby goes through. But theres something in between thats severly lacking in conversation and warning. Postpartum life. Im not talking about how tired you will be or how your house will turn into a toy store. I mean the little things that will likely take you by surprise unless a well meaning friend shares it with you. Because for some reason, we as a society dont talk about the post partum mom, except for breasfeeding, baby weight, and stretch marks. But let me tell you, there is a whole lot more than that.

Well, as the over-sharer that I am, allow me to prepare you for the things that never get spoken about, and might surprise you about life after pregnancy. Here are some of the things I had to learn on my own, and that I wish someone told me about so I was more prepared.

WARNING: I’m gonna get personal and gross right from the get-go. Buckle up.

You will sweat…profusely

Seriously. My first night after giving birth, I was so sweaty. But I passed it off as just part of recovery. I mean, I did just spend 3 days pushing a human out of my body, I’m understandably sweaty. But then the next night, same thing. And the following night, too. For weeks and weeks it continued. I would wake up at night to feed my baby and be soaked, almost like I had the flu! I felt disgusting, and was constantly changing clothes. But the more I questioned other moms (online and in mom groups) the more I realized we all were experiencing this to some degree….we just wen’t talking about it. I mean, sure. It’s a bit embarrassing, especially if you aren’t a person who sweats very much under normal circumstances. But it woulda saved us all a lot of embarrassment if it was something we were told was par for the course! No need to worry, soggy momma. You are normal.

You will smell

This goes hand in hand with being sweaty. But it’s so much more than that. I was constantly getting whiffs of my own body odour…and boy was it bad. And it wasn’t the typical B.O. smell I’d get if I’d done some cardio and wasn’t able to shower straight away. This was a whole other beast. I kept trying to compensate for smelling horrible by saying it out loud and apologizing. But my mom and my husband kept reassuring me that they couldn’t smell a thing. But how couldn’t they?! I was so rank. Im telling you, it was so bad that I would shower, and sniff my pitts after soaping up while SILL IN THE SHOWER and I could still smell myself. Seriously. No amount of soap or scrubbing was making this go away.

But heres the thing. No one around me could smell it (or at least they wouldn’t tell me so) except my baby. You see, this is a special function of a breastfeeding mom. You take on a unique signature scent that helps your young baby identify you. And as they grow and their senses develop, the stench (or strength of it) fades away.

If i had known this before it happened, maybe I wouldn’t have cried in the shower after scrubbing my armpits raw.

Postpartum insomnia is a thing

We all know that new parents have a hard time sleeping. But I always thought it was because

A) The baby keeps you awake with its very loud singing, practicing for auditions on The Voice, B) The baby being asleep makes you freak out that its too still to be breathing , or C) You cant stop watching this adorable little chubby mini-me peacefully sleeping

So, it really surprised me when my baby started sleeping through the night, but I did not. I didn’t feel anxious. I wasn’t plagued of thoughts about my baby’s safety. And even though I loved watching him sleep, I was cool with rolling over and enjoying my much needed rest. But, no matter how tired I was, the sleep wouldn’t come. I would lay awake, utterly exhausted. I would just nodd off and the baby would wake. Every 5 nights or so, I would sleep. Yes, you read that right. I would only sleep after about 4 full sleepless nights. Those 4 to 5 days were torturous cat naps only. After about a month of this, I went to my Dr because I thought something was seriously wrong. She knowingly chuckled when I explained what was going on. “Postpartum insomnia” she said. Apparently, it’s a hormone thing. Not every woman experiences it, but it’s not uncommon. “it will go away when you are done breastfeeding, most likely.” Oh. My. God. Are you kidding me? My kid is finally sleeping for more than 30 minutes at a time, and now I cant, and wont, until i’m done breastfeeding? (I plan to breastfeed for at least a year) Mother nature, your jokes aren’t that funny.

Carpal tunnel syndrome

Exactly the same as postpartum insomnia, some women get carpal tunnel that wont go away till breastfeeding is over. Its not unusual for women to get it while they are pregnant, but even if you didn’t have it then, you could still get it once your baby has left the flesh-building. According to my doc, hormones mixed with weight-bearing hand positions (breastfeeding again, yay!) is the perfect recipe for some inflammation of the nerves in your forearms and hands. My hands didn’t hurt much during the day but at night they would drive me crazy. Think pins and needles to the nth degree. That shit is going to keep you awake #postpartuminsomnia

Breastfeeding + binge eating

breastfeeding burns a LOT of calories. You think you were eating for two while you were pregnant? Thats not nothing on breastfeeding. That baby keps getting bigger and hungrier. Get ready to smash some food.

Breastfeeding + thirst

Breastmilk is surprisingly watery. Baby drinks breast milk, your fluids deplete, the body needs more to make more milk. The process is not surprising. What might surprise you is that you get thirsty IMMEDIATELY after your baby has triggered the let-down (aka within minutes of him/her latching on) Keep a bottle of water handy for every nursing session. You are gonna need it.

Period pains

I think its fairly well established in the way we discuss postpartum that your period may not come back for a while. But what they DON’T tell you, is that you will still get similar pains fairly often. In the beginning, your uterus needs to go back to its regular size, so cramping/contractions will take place for a few weeks after giving birth to contract that uterus back to its old self. Thats right. You will still have contractions for WEEKS. Yay!

If you are breastfeeding, the cramping will happen DURING nursing. Its kinda cool, although pretty uncomfortable. You might notice the postpartum bloat go down in unison with those sessions of cramping. its different for all women, but for me, that intense cramping only lasted about 3-4 weeks. But here’s where people stop talking about it. But guess what? you will still get cramps! Pretty much once a month, I get a day of mild cramping. Its nothing like what it used to be (although my experience may be biased since I’m an endometriosis gal) but it’s still noticeable, and identifiable.

You are still ovulating

Carrying right on from getting those period cramps comes the obvious but often misunderstood fact that you are still ovulating. Many people are lead to believe that if they are breastfeeding and did not get their periods back yet, that they can not get pregnant. This is FALSE INFORMATION #fakenews So many woman end up pregnant again because they are not practicing safe sex under the assumption that no period means no ovulation. Sorry to say, your body goes right back on makin’ them eggs. Life, uh…finds a way #jurassicpark

Hormone imbalances continue (acne, sweats, cravings, mood swings)

Again, no secret to anyone that pregnant women are on a rollercoaster ride of hormones that are challenging at best, and downright unfair at worst. But whats most unfair is that you dont get to just be done with all that after your sweet little bundle arrives. Oh no. no no no. The rollercoaster gets more intense, if you can believe it.

Many people will be familiar with the term Post Partum Depression, which is common and no joke. If you suspect that you or someone you care about might be suffering from PPD, please access help. Start by talking to a doctor. There is LOTS of help available.

But, outside of PPD, it seems a disservice to me that no one explains that mood swings, food cravings, exhaustion, acne, hair loss/hair gain, sweating and the like are almost guaranteed to happen. I don’t mind speaking out about PPD and saying that I suffered, and I still do suffer from regressive episodes from time to time. But for a while, I wondered if all my other symptoms were PPD. My amazing midwife explained that those things are not indicative of PPD but a normal part of your body settling into its new role as a food truck (breastfeeding, again! argh!)

So if you are experiencing things that make you feel like a teenager again, you are not alone. It’s par for the course. But please talk to a Dr to get screened for post partum depression just to be sure.

leaking breasts

So I heard of this before. But I seriously was not prepared. I thought it was a unicorn thing that only happened to the rare woman who’s a breastmilk goddess with an oversupply. So i’m going to do you ladies a service and let you know the real deal here. Even if you think this wont happen to you, it probably might.

You don’t need to have an oversupply, your baby doesn’t need to suddenly sleep through the night. (although both of those things make it even more likely) Your breasts will spontaneously leak; maybe when your baby sleeps through the night the first time and your supply was hoping for a night feed. Maybe when your baby cries because it’s hungry and you don’t immediately get to them. Maybe when a srangers’ baby cries because it’s hungry. Maybe when you are looking at them on the baby monitor or watching them do something especially cute. Or maybe when you are having an intimate moment with your partner (YUP). MAKE PEACE WITH THIS. It will happen, and continue to happen, when you least expect it. You’r boobs now have a mind of their own.

Oh and just when you think that phase is over, it will happen again. #oops

Speedy hair and nail growth

This may be a pleasant surpriuse to some (or a major inconvenience depending on your maintenance level). Your hair and nail growth might speed up. Not sure why that one happens, but wow I feel like i cut my nails every week now. And I am getting 2x more haircuts, too.

Another common thing that happens is the texture of your hair changing. Many women go from luscious curls to straight locks or vice versa after pregnancy. Your body grew, sustained, and continues to sustain life. Those are MAJOR changes, so… Anything is possible!

Dry vaj (masquerading as injuries)

Oh yes. Im going there. If you made it this far, lets just assume you’re cool with how gross I can be at times. okay? Great. :) OKay, You are a mom. You might have pushed at baby out of your body. Or maybe you had someone surgically remove it. In both cases, your muscle structure gets significantly compromised. Under good health care, we are told to limit our activity for 6 weeks while the body heals. I dont know a single mom, c-section or vaginal delivery, who felt like their body was actually ready to get back in the game. It takes MONTHS to heal, and my midwife (did I mention shes awesome?) laid it out for me honestly. She said things are not gonna feel anywhere near normal for the better part of a year. I’m currently 8.5 months postpartum, and yo she was right. My core is weak, my diastases is still present, and I was in some serious pelvic pain for a long while.

So, on the advise of many a Dr and friend, I decided to see a pelvic floor physiotherapist in hopes that she can help guide me into a life where it doesn’t feel like I’m going to lose my uterus every time i squat down.

It was an embarassing and humbling experience. This Dr literally tests out your muscle control from within. Its like the most revealing pap you’ve ever had. But seriously, it was worth it. What i learned was even though i was expierencing pain, my muscle structure was NOT compromised. Where did the pain com from you might ask? Dryness.

Yeah I know. It’s not ladylike to talk about that. No one wants to admit its an issue either. But remember how breastfeeding affects almost every topic covered above? Well this one too. Surprise! Your body’s natural fluids are depleted in a big way when your kid drinks sometimes 200ml 6-10 times a day. (Go measure that our if you’r not familiar with it. Its a lot.) If you are not super hydrated, and extremely well nourished, your body will totally ditch its other systems to provide for your child instead. Its admirable, but dang if your not careful it really translates in so some serious discomfort.

Turns out that some topical moisturizers (coconut oil did it for me, but some people need something more substantial with estrogen in it) and maintaining my body’s hydration brought me back to 80%. Couple that with learning how to do diaphragmatic breathing and activating your transverse abdominus during kegel exercises (okay can we just not cover that? I’ve said enough gross stuff) and you’re well on your way to recovery.

The takeaway

Growing and serving up a baby does a number on your body, but it continues after the birth. It takes work, healthy choices and a lot of knowledge to stay on top of whats happening to your body once your baby is here. Breastfeeding, no matter how long you decide to do it, is a lot harder than people give credit for. It goes far beyond latch and weight peoblems, and not enough people talk about that. Be prepared for your body to continue to go through changes as your baby changes with you. Be kind to yourself, eat well, drink as much water as you can every day, and TALK TO OTHER MOMS about what the heck is going on. You’ll be surprised to know you are not alone. <3

#postpartum #ppd #baby #body #womens health #post partum #postpartum depression

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skruffie · 5 years

Photo

It’s not the anniversary yet, but it IS National Siblings Day and I conveniently forget that this is even a thing until I go on Facebook or Twitter or something and remember. This year is a big milestone for my family because it is the 18th anniversary, which marks a passage of time from now to forever where she has been gone longer than she was alive.

I saw this thing on Facebook about grief, and it went something like grief is this hole, and you can try to fill the hole with whatever you can, but nothing fills it. It’s bottomless. It seems like your entire life gets sucked into it, but eventually as the years go on... the hole doesn’t get smaller. Your life gets bigger, and it grows around it. The hole is always there, but there’s more expanse around it as you move through each anniversary, each holiday, each milestone. It’s similar to describing grief as “it doesn’t get easier, you just get better at coping”.

(This is going to be very long and probably very sad because I talk at great length about her life and death)

I tried to write about a little bit about Nicole on Twitter today, but my initial post mentioned the word “cancer” which caught the attention of this fucking asshole that was advertising faith healing on his timeline. That dulled my grief a bit but it sure made me mad.

Trying to remember things.

We were seven years apart so we never really had a sibling rivalry or anything. I actually looked up to her so much--she was like a teenage rock star to my child self. She loved writing and wrote lots of poetry, got published in an independent zine by age nine, and through her adolescence was a bit of a grunge punk. She played piano and bass. She wore combat boots. Occasionally she dressed up with the full make-up and everything and called them her “pretty days”. She had a lock of hair in front of her face she kept in a small braid. She did blogging before the word “blog” even existed by maintaining an email list of friends and family, and she would email her updates directly to them. She coded her own websites and experimented with graphic design. She did photography. She’s why I love nail polish and tarot cards and Doc Martens--her own boots had navy blue laces with suns and moons on them. She had a huge, huge crush on Dave Navarro. She would buy hostess cupcakes for the kids at school who didn’t have food, and she kicked her own friends out of our house when they tried to bring alcohol to her party.

Nicole grew up with the brunt of our parents’ addictions before I came along. My mom (seen with baby Nicole in one of the photos above) and dad were only 19 when they had her and got married. When she was younger, they actually split up for a while and I think my great-grandma helped take care of her. My parents both went to rehab, got back together, and then had me, so... I was the baby that grew up in a sober house for a while at least. My parents still argued and it bothered me a lot when I got a bit older, so she’d come get me and take me to her room and bring chips and bean dip, and I’d have a safe place to cry.

...That’s a thought I just had right there. After she died, I didn’t really have that same kind of shield from my parents fighting (which was a lot worse after her death--a lot of couples who lose a child end up divorcing and my parents came close), which I think is probably what made the emotional neglect worse.

I don’t remember the exact progression of her cancer, but things started getting noticeable when she started developing night-blindness. I think at the time there were some doctors that didn’t believe she could be getting cancer so getting the insurance to cover tests and treatment was a fight every single time. A tumor started growing in her left arm, and the diagnosis was finally clear: rhabdomyosarcoma. She asked the doctors after her diagnosis if it was genetic, because even after that, she thought of me. (Thankfully, it isn’t. It was just a stupid, cruel twist of the universe.)

She got chemo, started to go into remission, and eventually it came back. Nicole then got a stem cell transplant when it was getting worse--more tumors, etc etc. I had met with a grief counselor at the hospital once or twice during this time period, even before we knew for sure it was terminal, because I was 10 going on 11 and needed someone to help me process and also like... kinda pay attention to me? Admitting that feels weird, but I was just a kid.

The day that I found out that the stem cell transplant didn’t work is probably almost worse than the day she died for me. They brought in a minister and we sang “Amazing Grace” and I watched her be baptized, and while she was being anointed, I kept asking everyone “Why is she being baptized? Why??? Why?! We’re Wiccan!!” Which was true. Nicole also underwent a Wiccaning around this time. Everyone was ignoring my questions, until finally it was time. She told me the stem cell transplant had not been successful and broke down crying, and I immediately understood what that meant, and I started screaming and crying. I started screaming to see the grief counselor, and I had to leave the hospital room to go with the counselor down to my favorite spot on the hospital campus.

Fuck. I hate Easter. I fucking hate Easter. It was around Easter time and this holiday plays a role in this awful memory of mine: at the hospital, some very kind person made little easter baskets for all the kids that were on the juvenile cancer ward, and I even got to get one even though I wasn’t a patient. I was starting to open mine but Nicole just looked at it. She said “Why do I get one? Why do I get one when I’m going to--” and probably started crying. I put my basket aside because the thrill of like... easter chocolate or whatever the fuck was gone. I don’t think I’ve been able to enjoy this holiday since.

Make A Wish was involved at some point, obviously. NIcole’s original wish was to meet Tori Amos, but her management team responded with “Uhhh, Tori doesn’t really do that” which was disappointing at first. (A few years later, a couple of Nicole’s friends saw T live in concert and met her at a meet and greet. They told her Nicole’s story and I guess she had no idea actually, so I believe it was a decision firmly on the management’s side.). The next wish had to be rushed, and Nicole realized that she wanted to go to prom. The actual senior prom for her high school was going to be too far out in advance with her surviving that long, so Make A Wish threw together a special prom just for her and about 150+ attendees.

The prom was held at Newport Harbor on a yacht. Rebecca Schoenkopf of Wonkette, known in 2001 as CommieGirl for the OC Weekly, met with Nicole once prior to this and attended as a prom guest to write about it. Naturally, Nicole was crowned prom queen and when she stood up to receive the crown, it was something magical. She had spent most of the evening in and out of sleep from being so ill and from the medications she was on.

When she was dying, she wanted to be at the hospital. I stayed at my grandparent’s house... probably for a couple days, I don’t actually remember how long it was, and my parents were there for her. I believe she died in the early hours of the morning on April 30th, two days short of her 18th birthday. I had a moment that morning that I consider a small blessing, which is that I found out she was gone before anyone had actually told me, and it gave me a brief reprise to just be by myself while I gathered up my will to go downstairs and face my parents. I had been in the process of going downstairs, and I saw my mom come out of the bathroom, and that was it. That was all I needed to see.

She had them write a letter as her own personal message to me. Two days later for her 18th birthday, my cousin sent us 18 lavender balloons. I don’t think we had her memorial until the 11th of May and I know this because it was the same day Douglas Adams--one of Nicole’s favorite authors--died. We joked that she took him with her. Nicole was cremated, and I do remember there was at least one funny moment that morning as we were getting out of the car. My mom handed me the wooden box that had Nicole’s cremains in it and said “Here, hold your sister for a sec.” We got a touch of that grave humor in my family.

One of the hardest things about this... hole of grief, is aging. My parents are in their mid 50s now, and I’m going to be 30 next year. I don’t have any other siblings to help take care of my parents. My mom rather flippantly says “Oh, put us in a nursing home”, but that just feels so bleak. I don’t have my sister with me to help with my wedding, to meet Zack or any of my friends, to talk to about our past and our future. She’s not here to kick ass and build amazing apps or tear down the patriarchy or be on the ground reporting the latest news break. There’s so many milestones I’ve already crossed without her but I am always going to miss her.

Bon swayr, ma souer.

#sibling death #sibling grief #this is a gd essay just a head's up #death /

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