#the daily routine now that this show has taken over my mind

[lumons]

i log on i reblog 50 severance posts i log off

[astrosamara]

Astrology Observations #4

🩵Sun in 8th & 12th house are incredibly talented individuals with unique gifts to share with the world, but a lot of the time this potential is unseen to them and they can struggle a lot with their purpose. These people can also attract a lot of jealousy from people who don't want to see them win in life.

🩵So many Pisces suns I know radiate this effortlessly cool vibe and people naturally want to be around them. Unfortunately for Pisces, their energy gets depleted around people quickly and they require a lot of alone time or their vibe can turn sour fast.

🩵Earth suns, especially Capricorns, unfairly get labeled as being too boring and practical. These people can make great friends who are grounded and reliable though. This energy gets taken for granted in friendships I feel like.

🩵You might find yourself frequently getting crushes on people with their sun or moon in your 5th and 7th houses.

🩵Moon in 6th house are more sensitive than others to their environment and daily routines. They can struggle feeling grounded in their emotions, since their environment is so strongly connected to their inner world.

🩵Saturn in 1st can be insanely critical over their physical appearance. They might not take pictures of themselves very often, but when they do, they can obsess over how they look in them. I have this placement and I don't have that many pictures of myself when I was a teenager because I hated getting my picture taken. My entire day would be ruined if I saw a bad picture of myself.

🩵Venus in 1st is a placement I've always been jealous of, they just radiate feminine beauty and can have a strong interest and understanding of fashion. I've also noticed that there can be something unique about their beauty that really makes people notice them.

🩵Scorpio Venus can struggle a lot with limerence. They frequently mistake obsession for love. They might not even be interested in someone unless they feel like they're obsessed with them. Crushes in general can feel all consuming for them.

🩵Scorpio's are also great at hiding things from people and will only show a side of themselves that they want to portray. They understand the importance of keeping things private and will truly take their secrets to the grave.

🩵Pisces mercuries will blurt out the most random things in a group conversation that will leave everyone speechless and confused. I swear their minds are just tapped into a different dimension lol. Also incredibly funny.

🩵If you have any planets conjunct your chiron, there can be a great source of pain within the themes of this planet, but if you focus on healing this energy it can become a great source of power for you. I have chiron conjunct my mercury and I grew up extremely shy and afraid to use my voice. Now, I've found that journaling and writing about my pain has become incredibly therapeutic for me and it's strengthened my ability to communicate about my emotions.

🩵Mars in 6th house tend to be really passionate about trying to maintain a healthy lifestyle. They feel great when they prioritize their health and when they follow a schedule. I have this placement in Virgo and I can get so grouchy and irritable if I don't eat well and get some sort of movement in for the day.

🩵North node in 6th house can really struggle with being an active participant in their life. With their south node in the 12th house, they feel most comfortable observing other people's lives and blending into the background. Learning to embrace the spotlight and be seen by others will be very important for them in being on the right path.

🩵Sun in 1st house people can literally or metaphorically have a shine or glow to them. They radiate this light, warm, welcoming energy that makes people just want to look at them and be around them. Also, natural entertainers. They're meant for the spotlight in some way or another.

🩵Mars in 3rd house are constantly traveling and seeking adventure. They're always down to try new things or go somewhere new. I have a friend with this placement that is seemingly always traveling, in a new place, or trying a new hobby every time I talk to them. They don't like being stagnant.

[agaypanic]

hi omg i got so excited when i saw you were doing egon spengler x reader aaaa! could you do egon and an personality opposite reader? he's all serious and deadpan while she's happy and upbeat (it'd be cool if she was the new girl in the team and had a crush on him). sort of like a "she fell first, he fell harder" situation?

The Sunlight On My Spores (Egon Spengler X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: The new addition to the ghostbuster’s team is a ray of sunshine, and she has her sights on a scientist with an interest in fungi and the supernatural.

A/N: AHHHHH ive been waiting for an egon/ghostbuster request!!! since i havent written for egon before, i hope i get his character right lol also idk shit about science/paranormal jargon. and idk if eegs is spelled the way it should but it’s pronounced ee-gs, like egon but s instead of on

***

Joining the Ghostbusters definitely brought amusement and hecticness to your daily life. Although you handled more of the office work, you had seen your fair share of the paranormal action. Namely Slimer, who would get ahold of your lunch every now and then.

Ray was the first on the team that you had met, being the one to interview you. You liked to call him ‘Sun-Ray’ for his bright and positive personality.

You were pretty much hired on the spot, mainly because Janine had been complaining about the lack of extra help. But as long as you had a steady paycheck, you didn’t mind. Ray had immediately showed you around the firehouse. You met Peter and Winston on the main floor, the former being flirtatious and the latter being more polite in his welcoming. 

Then Ray took you up to the second floor, where the dining area, sleeping quarters, and lab were.

That’s where you met Egon Spengler. His tall frame was hunched over one of the lab’s many workbenches, doing some soldering work on a proton pack.

“Spengs!” Ray said with a wide grin, bringing you over to the scientist. The man in question set down the soldering iron and straightened up, adjusting his glasses as he turned around.

“What is it, Ray?” He asked in a somewhat monotone voice. He glanced at you, furrowing his brows slightly before looking back at his friend. “Who’s this?”

“This is Y/n, our new recruit!” Ray replied enthusiastically, patting you on the shoulder. 

“Ah, so you’ve filled the new receptionist position.” He said, giving you a once-over. “Janine will be happy to hear that.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Spengler.” You greeted with a smile. He outreached his hand, which you grasped firmly and gave a few shakes. His hand was slightly calloused, probably from his work, but still felt nice.

“Egon’s fine.”

“I’ve read a few of your papers on paranormal studies; I think the whole thing’s fascinating.” 

Some of his research papers weren’t the only thing of Egon’s you’ve seen. Ever since the Ghostbusters had gained some popularity, you couldn’t help but find him quite cute, spending an extra few seconds looking at him whenever a picture of the group was in your newspaper or on your television screen. 

And he was definitely even more handsome in person.

“Well then, you’ve definitely come to the right place.” Ray grinned, but your focus was still on the spectacled man before you.

“Thank you, that’s very flattering.” Although his voice was a bit monotonous, the response was genuine. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my spore samples.”

“Spore samples?” You asked with curiosity.

“Yes. I collect spores, molds, and fungus.” 

“That sounds like fun!” Egon was a bit taken aback by your response. That wasn’t a reply he was used to hearing. And the fact that you sounded genuine and peppy was even more confusing to him. 

Ray, wanting to show you the rest of the firehouse, started to pull you away. You gave a quick goodbye to Egon before bounding down the stairs after Ray. Meanwhile, Egon needed to take a second to get his befuddled thoughts straight before he could tend to his samples.

***

You fell into a routine pretty quickly. The job was mainly making appointments and ensuring the boys were ready for a call, scheduled or unexpected. Occasionally, you filed paperwork or got coffee for everyone at odd hours in the day. But because the job was shared between you and Janine, you often had at least a little bit of free time.

“Got another one!” Peter announced as he stepped out of the Ecto-1 that had just rolled into the firehouse, holding up a slightly smoking trap. As Winston and Ray emerged from the car, you wondered if Peter had been wearing a poncho because he was the only one not covered at least halfway in goo. “He was a real slimy one, too.”

“I can tell.” You laughed as Ray and Winston peeled out of their uniforms with a grimace. 

“You’re back.” Egon’s voice almost made you jump; you hadn’t realized he had come down from the lab. He walked until he was standing next to you, holding his hand out towards the ghost trap. “I’ll take that, Peter. Ray, come with me, I want to discuss the containment facility with you.”

“What about it?” Ray asked as he closed his locker. Egon brushed past you to walk down to the basement, Ray close behind.

Not wanting to be caught staring at Egon’s leaving form, you whipped back around to the car. It seemed that Winston and Ray weren’t the only ones who got slimed. Poor Ecto.

“I think I’m gonna clean the car.” You thought aloud. “You guys don’t have any more calls until tomorrow.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Y/n,” Winston said. 

“Well, someone’s gotta do it,” Peter interjected. “We gotta ride in style, after all.”

“Really, Winston, I don’t mind.” You insisted. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Suit yourself.” He said with a shrug.

Patting you on the shoulder, Winston went upstairs to take a shower. While Peter hung up his jumpsuit, you looked around in a storage closet for car washing supplies.

“Y/n?” You looked towards the sound of the voice, seeing Egon peeking out of the basement entrance.

“Yeah, Eegs?”

“You, uh-” He cleared his throat, cheeks going slightly pink, and you wondered why. “You can wear my jumpsuit, if you want. So your clothes don’t get dirty.”

You grinned, straightening up from your slightly bent position. Peter raised a brow at Egon, although you couldn’t see that because you were also looking at the tall man.

“Thanks, Egon!”

He nodded once before going back downstairs, Peter hot on his tail. 

“You sweet on her or something, Spengs?” He asked quietly, not wanting to gain your attention.

“Shut up, Venkman.”

***

Music blasted as you washed the soap suds of the Ecto-1. You were pretty sure everyone was out of the building, either getting lunch or just not wanting to be in the firehouse. You had taken Egon up on his offer, his jumpsuit fitting very baggy on you. You had to roll up the sleeves and pantlegs, but you didn’t mind. Especially when seeing the patch with his last name on your chest.

Over the music and your own voice singing along to Whitney Houston, you didn’t hear Egon walking down the stairs. When he reached the bottom step, he watched as you jumped around to the beat. 

“I need a man who’ll take the chance, on a love that burns hot enough to last.” You sprayed the last of the soap off the front of the car before turning the hose off. “So when the night falls, my lonely heart calls. Ohh- Oh!” You yelped in surprise as you turned around, seeing Egon, who was still looking at you. His eyes trailed up and down your form, but it was so quick that you didn’t notice. “Hey, Eegs! I thought you’d gone out with the others.” Even after turning down the radio to hear his response, you still danced a bit. Although, your movements were a bit more subdued.

“I was up in the lab, checking on my fungi.” 

“Oh! Was the music distracting you?” You asked, already sounding apologetic. “I can keep it down if you-”

“No!” Egon answered quickly, taking the both of you by surprise. He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “No, the music’s fine. I wanted a snack and found that we were out of Twinkies, so I was going to get some.” 

You nodded in understanding, moving to put away the car cleaning supplies that you were no longer using. And then you noticed that Egon hadn’t made any move to leave. You looked over your shoulder, seeing that he was standing in the same spot with eyes darting around the room, and turned back around to face him. You tilted your head with a questioning look.

“Would you, ahem, would you like to come with me?” He seemed a bit shy to ask, and it made you smile brightly. “Wouldn’t want to leave you here all alone and all.”

“Sure!” You answered enthusiastically. “Lemme just put all this away.” 

Without asking, Egon helped you gather everything and put it in the storage closet. You unrolled the limbs of Egon’s uniform, and he couldn’t help but admire you in his attire, despite how much the fabric consumed you. It was hung back up in his locker with care before you grabbed your purse from your desk and skipped over to him.

“Ready?” You nodded, and the two of you walked out of the firehouse. Without thinking, you looped your arm through his. But before you could pull away and apologize for not asking, he was already pulling you along the sidewalk, the tiniest hint of a smile on his serious face.

[mangooes]

Beauty and the Beast

A Sylus x reader (non mc) fanfiction

~ In which (Name), the most beautiful maiden in Taurus City, yearns for a life outside her walls. There she meets a certain beast, who wants a change of heart.

It is recommended to read this chapter while listening to the "Belle" ost from the beauty and the beast! As i took alot of inspiration from it while writing this prologue chapter!

Prologue - ch1 - ch2 - ch3 - ch4 - ch5 - Epilogue

Prologue - There must be more than this provincial life!

The city of Taurus was a place where time moved slowly. Each morning began with the scent of fresh bread wafting from the baker’s shop, the sound of birds chirping, and the chatter of civilians busying themselves. The old cobblestone pathways bustled with merchants selling their wares. The people were simple, content in their quiet lives, easly satisfied with their bussiness and routines. Yet there was one among them who did not quite belong.

(Name)

Now, it's no wonder that her name means "Beauty". Her looks have got no parallel. They praised her beauty that has no pararell with anyone, though just as often they shower her with praises, they whispered about how she always had her nose stuck in a book, a bookworm, a lone girl who cares too much about the outside world for her own good.

While others gossiped in the marketplace or busied themselves with mundane chores, (Name) wandered through the village square with a novel clutched to her chest, her soft brown eyes lost in distant thoughts of grand adventures and far-off lands.

'Little town its a quite village..' she thinks, walking down the long path, only her book keeping her entertained.

"Bonjour (Name)!" "Bonjour Miss Mausine!""Bonjour little madame.!" "Bonjour!"

Everday, like the one before, every morning just the same, to this provincial...life.

She walked towards the end of the road and stood atop the hill overlooking Taurus City, the wind gently tousling her hair as she gazed at the vast landscape before her. She sits on the lush grassfield, too engrosed in her own world. 'Isn't this amazing??' she thinks to herself, reading the words written in the book on her hand. "This is where she met prince charming! Tho she won't discover that its him till chapter three... oh how i could read this book all over again!" she gushes herself.

The wind rustles through her hair, as she looks up towards the view infront of her. Beyond the sharp cliffs, rolling meadows and endless forests lay a world she had never seen, one filled with interesting things, with stories far grander than the ones bound in the pages of her books. Her mind drifts off, imagining a field of beautiful flowers...just like the ones in her storybooks, just like a fairytale.

Looking at the view infront of her, her eyes stared at the horizon longingly, 'wish i could have taken you to that flowerfield papa...'

A nostalgic feeling surges, Her father, Maurice, a kind and eccentric inventor, often chuckled at her longing. “The world out there isn’t always as wonderful as the stories, my dear,” he would say. "But father, whatever the cost, I want to see it with my own two eyes!" (Name) would always replied, "I know I know.." her father laughs, "When the time comes, show it to me too okay dear? Promise me that you would always be happy.." the distant memory echoes, her heart ached for the lost of her only family member, for something more than the repetition of her daily life.

The villagers, however, did not understand her yearning. To them, (Name)’s beauty was wasted on her oddity. Nothing like the rest of them. A puzzle to the rest of them.

Of course, many had tried to court her, but she found no charm in men who could only speak of hunting and drinking, boasting about their richness and arogance..

What was the point of a handsome suitor if he could not dream beyond the village borders? If he could not see the endless possibilities waiting beyond Taurus’s walls?

And so, (Name) remained an enigma, admired yet isolated.

(Hello! Might edit this later but I'll post the first chapter on friday since i have an upcomming test tomorrow :(( hope you guys enjoyed this prologue tho! Comments and sudgestions are welcomed <3)

[bellasprettywords]

Parallel Parking (Spencer Reid x Reader)

a/n: When Olivia Rodrigo said "I can't even parallel park" lives were changed. I saw this really cute video and I couldn't help myself

y/n – your name

Warnings: Use of the word "shit", and I can't parallel park, so this would be a dream scenario for me

Word count: 940

My Masterlist

Part of your daily routine included getting to work at least with 20 minutes of anticipation in order to find a good parking space; but today your alarm didn’t go off on time, your heater broke down, and you were completely out of bagels and cereal, so naturally, your morning wasn’t going great, and you were afraid you’d come into work late.

The clock on the dashboard of your car signaled 7:50 am as you were pulling up to the parking lot, which meant you were still on time for work, but definitely the good parking spots were going to be taken.

“Shit, shit shit” you muttered under your breath as you were finishing your third lap through the parking lot, when suddenly, you heard someone call your name. You turned your head and you could see Doctor Spencer Reid waving his arm up as if he was calling you. Shit you knew Spencer because you were coworkers at the BAU, but you couldn't say you were friends, merely acquaintances, as you’ve joined the team while he was away in prison and the times you’d spent together were awkward, but polite to say the least. You slowly drove towards the Doctor, who now seemed a little exasperated, as instead of turning the car around, you decided to give another lap through the parking lot.

“Good morning Doctor Reid” you said rolling down your window with a smile that was trying to cover up the fact that you were starving, he made you nervous and if you couldn’t park in the next five minutes, you’d be late for the briefing

“Is it really a good morning? You’ve been driving through this parking lot for at least 10 minutes” he said looking impatiently at the watch resting on his wrist

“I… I… It has been kind of a rough morning, but everything’s fine, I’ll be up there for the briefing in a couple of minutes” you said trying to sound confident even when you were almost certain you’d have to find parking somewhere outside the FBI Academy

“Just park over there, and let’s go” Spencer said pointing to a free parking space where you’d have to parallel park

“Oh… sure… just…” you stuttered unable to find the words to properly communicate that you couldn't parallel park, without sounding like a child

“What is it? You don’t know how to parallel park?” Spencer said furrowing his brow and with a small smile beginning to form at his lips

“I just… I never really do it” you said, feeling your cheeks warming up and gaining a reddish color as his lips curled into a cute smile

“Alright, step out, I’ll park it for you” Spencer said opening the driver’s door and offering you his hand to step out of the car

“No no, no way Doctor Reid” you said completely embarrassed at the situation, and feeling the red from your cheeks spread through your whole face

“Just take my hand, I’ll park it for now, and later we can come down, and I’ll show you how to do it” he said with a sweet smile that made your stomach flutter. You took his hand and he helped you out with a swift movement; you walked to the sidewalk and watched as Spencer parked your car with ease.

Sure, you weren’t really friends, or knew each other a lot, but he definitely was cute to look at. Your mind started to wander; you couldn’t peel your eyes off of him as he placed his arm over the passenger’s seat to get a better look at the parking spot he was going to occupy; you stared at him, carefully examining the way his hands gently held the steering wheel, almost as careful as he held your hand; the way his profile looked almost angelical with his long curls framing his face and the soft beard that covered his jaw… Spencer got out of the car and walked towards you, with your eyes were glued to his figure, taking in every detail in hopes of keeping it safe in your mind. Your brain was a mush, when suddenly your train of thought was interrupted by your stomach growling

“Next time you stare, try to keep your mouth closed” Spencer said jokingly as he handed you your car keys

“I… I wasn’t” you stuttered when it happened again, once more and as if this whole situation wasn’t embarrassing enough, your stomach growled again, this time louder. This time, you were ready for the earth to open under your feet and just crawl into it

“Here, take this; it may not be breakfast, but it’s something” Spencer said handing you a white paper bag he retrieved from his messenger bag

“Oh, no, thank you, Doctor Reid, but I’m alright” you lied low-key praying that your stomach wouldn’t give away how hungry you were

“Please, take it y/n, and please, just call me Spencer, I’m not that old, you know?” he insisted, this time offering you a warm, reassuring smile, and you couldn’t help but chuckle

“Thank you… for everything” you said shyly as the two of you walked together towards the building

“Don’t thank me just yet, I still have to teach you how to parallel park” Spencer said, opening the door for you

“Oh, so you were serious?” you asked a little surprised, mostly because you thought he was joking when he said he’d teach you

“Of course I’m serious! You can’t keep arriving into the office freakishly early just because you can’t park” he added laughing as the two of you made your way into the elevator

[ninyard]

Thoughts about Kevin having an actual Ed and not doing all these rants about food for fun and giggles like some ppl think

OKAY. Okay. So this is just some kind of headcanon stuff based on canon that I’ve thought about for a while. Obligatory trigger warning for ED topics specifically related to ortho/fasting/general shitty relationship with food stuff.

So. I don’t think that Kevin is capable of admitting to himself, by himself, that he has an eating disorder. But I think there’s two sides to it - there’s his body image, and there’s his healthy eating. Their overlap is sizable, but blurry, in the sense that it’s not quite clear where one starts and the other ends.

I have this image in my head of two parallel situations; the first a situation where a young Kevin is sat on a couch with his mom by his side. It’s a lazy Sunday, the TV is playing old cartoons, and Kayleigh is sitting next to her young son, both of them curled up in pyjamas and awake too early to be sane. Kayleigh a book open to one side of her and a notebook on her lap, and she’s scribbling something down that a five or six year old Kevin couldn’t care less about. He’s a good kid, a quiet kid, and all he wants some mornings is just a bowl of cereal, his mom by his side, and his favourite tv show. So he gets all three; an old episode of Kayleigh’s favourite childhood animation, the two of them curled up beneath the same long blanket, and a big bowl of coco pops on his knees, or whatever the sugary, chocolatey American equivalent is. The spoon is a teaspoon, snug in between chubby little fingers, and there’s chocolate milk and cocoa puffs all over his little face, but he’s happy. He’s content, he’s comfortable. He’s a kid, being a kid, eating the cereal that his mom buys him without question, just because it’s his favourite.

Then there’s Kevin, not many years later, sitting at a cold kitchen table with Riko across from him and Tetsuji in between - their little bodies are too big for the chairs they’ve been sat in, but they’ve been pushed forward and boosted up until they’re uncomfortably sat over a gray looking plate. They aren’t allowed eat until they can identify the protein in their breakfast, until they can recount what macros are sat on their plates. It’s a cruel and unusual thing to ask of two nine year olds, but they’re used to it by now. Kevin doesn’t like eggs anymore. Every morning it’s the same. A balanced meal, with the same amount of calories as usual, at the same time every single day of the week. Routine is good for growing minds, the master had told them, and nothing should go into a growing body without knowing exactly what it is.

The problem starts in that, when he was younger, his diet wasn’t necessarily focussed on restricting. The master wanted to ensure that Riko and Kevin were hitting their daily needs. If a plate was not empty, then a goal had not been met, and it didn’t matter how much Kevin cried that he was full, or not hungry, he couldn’t get permission to leave that table until his plate was clean. Their meal times were set and strict - any changes were usually punished in the firing of cooks or the beating of unfocused children. They were weighed each morning to ensure they were growing as they should be, gaining weight as expected, gaining muscle as required.

The older they got the more particular things got; Kevin found himself on an almost unmanageably strict diet and weight management routine - nothing unhealthy, in theory, but too healthy, instead. Times that he couldn’t deviate from, the same meals day in day out, nothing added, nothing taken away. It was when he started working harder on his physique that it became second nature - there was no space for him to be a lazy high schooler who didn’t want however many grams of protein with his dinner. That didn’t exist. Want was a non-factor. Food was always a finely crafted need.

When Exy becomes the biggest priority in his life (as if it wasn't before), when gaining muscle and working out becomes more appropriate for his age, he's introduced to intermittent fasting by a Raven dietician that should've had her license revoked. He was 14, 15, 16 and calculating the times he would be able to stop eating at in order to get a decent amount of time without food in his system. He would calculate what he would need throughout the day to eat as little as possible but to get the nutrition that he needs. They built this bulking/restricting programme into his routine, weeks where he'd eat at regular intervals throughout the day, hitting his calories and nutritional needs, and weeks where he felt like he wasn't eating much at all. It was done in a way that research deemed healthy, so who was he to argue?

So it’s normal to him, this obsession, more of a built-in requirement than something he thinks about at all. He's never been around people that don't care about things in the way he's supposed to. He doesn't remember much of his mother or her eating habits, and until he's much, much older, he isn't reminded of any of the foods he was allowed to eat as a much younger child, until a smell or a taste throws him back. (When he tells David he's never had McDonalds before, he believes he is telling the truth, but when he allows himself to try the fast food some time into the future, he remembers that taste from some memory too far away to touch. It's confusing and sickening and it feels wrong, wrong, wrong.)

I think the thing about Kevin's eating disorder is that, until he is around people that can tell him it's not normal, he doesn't see any problem with it, and even then he sees the foxes as unfocused and unserious when he's called out on it. He doesn't believe anyone when they tell him he has an unhealthy obsession with what he does and doesn't put in his body - why would he? Why would he have any reason to believe that they're right?

The way I like to imagine him understanding his issues is between a few different ways. There's David, first off, in those first couple of weeks after he broke his hand. It's beyond David how Kevin can be in their hotel room with a barely recognisable hand asking about dinner, or calculating how he could properly fast around this whole ordeal. How Kevin could barely keep down any food he was in that much pain, but still insisted on having a full meal that he forced down his throat because he had to. He watched how frustrated Kevin became when he would throw up his food, some app on his phone or a scribbled-on napkin calculating what he was missing with every day that went on where he was in too much pain to eat. There's David, who tells him he can't justify cooking him a huge meal that he can't eat, and Kevin who has a panic attack at the idea of missing a week, two weeks, of being on track. I can't play if I don't eat, he sobs, when all David is thinking about is, I'm not even sure you can play at all.

There's Abby, who does his first physical a couple of weeks into his time in PSU, who carelessly tells him his weight, and Kevin who immediately freaks out and the number being much lower than he's expecting. Abby who tells him it's okay, that he's recovering, and he who panics and asks her to buy him as many protein bars as she can find.

There's Bee, who tells him his relationship to food is unhealthy, and Kevin, who doesn't trust her at all. There's the number for an on-campus dietician and a pamphlet about eating disorders pushed across a table that he throws out into the first trash can he can find.

(There's Allison, something I could fill a whole other ask about, who can't stand watching the way that he eats, his obsessions with food, who begs Bee to do something about it because of how triggering it is for her to watch.)

So that's one side of it - his obsessive health, his over conscious eating habits, his learned behaviours that he would never deem to be unhealthy. There's that need for control over everything that goes into his body, that sends him into a spiral when he can't keep on track of things. It's the eating disorder than most people in the sports world wouldn't bat an eyelid at. He's dedicated, of course he is, he's admirably obsessed. That's just what athletes do. That's just how he was taught to care for his body. He doesn't comprehend for a long time just how damaging it is for his whole world to revolve around his next or last meal.

The other part is his body image - this one, maybe, is less tied to canon than the healthy eating, but something that I feel goes hand-in-hand with 1) him being an athlete in the public eye and 2) already having underlying issues with orthorexia and the way that he eats.

Imagine this, Kevin who has always been mindful and obsessed with the way that he looks, how much he weighs, how his body is shaped and built - he's 17, 18, doing some of his first major magazine shoots. One is for a sports magazine, or maybe a pop culture magazine, and he's doing this shoot in a few different outfits. But the last of the bunch is some shirtless shots, all harmless and not-too-revealing, but shirtless nonetheless. And Kevin has been so obsessed with his own body for so long that he knows exactly how he looks when he's unclothed. Maybe he has a mole on his lower stomach. He has a rib on his left side that sticks out a little more than the rest. His six pack isn't perfect, but it's there. He has acne on his back. Something.

Kevin does the shoot, and honestly? He feels great. He feels like he looks his best, he's happy with himself and how well he's been looking after his body, and then the magazine comes out. Then the magazine comes out, and he flicks to the section dedicated to him, and there, in a full fold-out spread, is him, shirtless. It doesn't take him long to notice the differences - he'd asked the photographer to flick through the photos at the shoot, and there's some tiny, minor editorial differences that he can't stop staring at.

There's a little bit of normal body fat that usually just hangs over his pants - it's muscle, he knows it is, and it is minuscule when he sees it on himself, but for some reason they've edited it out. The mole on his stomach is gone. The redness on his chest, on his back, the textured skin on his stomach - smooth, gone, no longer a problem. It's the first time Kevin has ever seen his body photoshopped, as if the things normal about him are a problem, and he looks closer at any shoots he's done before; tiny blemishes on his face, little scars, freckles, things he'd never even considered to be a problem, disappeared through the magic of photo editing. It's jarring, at first, but he realises then just how much it's been done. And it's not necessarily that the editors of these photos sees these things as problems, we know that, it's just how normalised it is for celebrities to be flawless at that point in time, but Kevin doesn't see it like that.

Some other times he compares edited photos and non edited photos of himself - ones where he's been made to look taller, leaner, sometimes bigger, whatever the publication required, and that manifests itself into a different obsession. It manifests into the desire to look perfect, flawless outside of the healthy eating and muscle toning he's already doing. I've always thought that if Kevin's eating disorder was to turn from something along the lines of orthorexia into something else, that that would be the reason. When he loosens up from his strict routine after joining the foxes, maybe then would come the au or the point where it'd manifest into knowingly fasting without it being a healthy-diet thing. Maybe then it'd manifest into harming his body knowingly because he feels like it'll make him look "perfect", instead of harming his mind unknowingly because he needs to be "healthy".

I should stop myself before this gets too much longer but the TL;DR is that I have a lot of thoughts about Kevin & his relationship with food and his body and I could talk about it forever. <3

[stqrgirlie0]

⋆✮theodore nott-pt 4✮⋆

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

you were running out of concealer, and it was showing. the purplish blue bruise less inconspicuous than the day before. theo had no chill when it came to hickeys- even though you guys weren’t official yet, he saw no problem in marking you his. one could say it just happens in the moment, and honestly why would anyone blame him- especially when he had you pressed up against the wall, head tilted back, mouth parted open, eyes closed and your neck and collarbone exposed. he just can't help himself.

it was becoming a daily routine, everyday right after last period you'd walk past the same empty classroom and everyday you'd hear someone whisper your name from behind the door. not very long after you'd be unbuttoning theo's shirt while he picked you up and sat you onto a desk. your fingers would tangle between theo's fluffy curls while his lips littered kisses and hickeys. soft pants from the both of you filled the air, and your were more than glad that theo did his little magic and muffled the room's noise to the outside. the sound of theo ripping your tights made you gasp out loud as you gave theo a light smack on his shoulder, while he muttered a 'i'll buy you new ones.’ soft kisses planted into your inner thighs and as soon as he was on his knees, he got down to business- ate you out like he didn't have breakfast in the morning. euphoric- that's how you felt every single time this man was on his knees, stars were starting to form in your vision. squeezing your eyes shut, fingers gripping his hair and the edge of the desk, you reached your climax and theo was all over you again, fervent kisses with teeth clashing and soft giggles in between.

obviously you guys hadn't been caught yet, but even if you did, i doubt that it would stop the two of you. this whole thing between you and theo hadn't been out in the open yet, so every moment between you two in front of the group was seen as an interaction between two "friends". it wasn't the best thing however it wasn't the worst. the thrill of getting caught and no one knowing egged on both of your antics, but not being able to grab theo and kiss him in front of the girls that cannot keep their eyes off of him, took a lot off self control. then again having this little secret meant that no one could have a problem with it- what they didn't know couldn't hurt them right?

unsettling thoughts would cross your mind so frequently, that you found yourself asking the question 'what are we?’. not dating but talking, talking but not progressing- what the hell was going on. you wanted it to work out you really did, so why didn't he just ask you out? and just like that your wish was granted- be careful what you wish for tho.. it was romantic you'll admit it- the candle, the flowers, the chocolates, the black lake glistening in the moonlight and the warm breezy air blowing your hair. it was literally a scene out of a romcom and you felt like you would literally MELT for the man right then and there. everything was perfect- so why was there still this iffy feeling? i'll tell you why- despite all of this lovey dovey, will-you-be-my-girlfriend stuff, our man Mr Theodore Nott asked to STILL keep it a secret. now why on gods green earth would he ask that? obviously you wouldn’t let this ruin you mood, you were on cloud nine girl!! but that bridge was fast approaching, and you were gon have to cross it at some point.

months pass by, and you've both still kept it a secret, but boy has it taken a toll on your side. keeping secrets, lying, it's never been your thing and you hate doing it to the people you love and care about. was it all worth it, was it worth the lack of energy and excitement? your secret link ups with theo got more frequent over time obviously- and maybe it was just because your friends just didn't hang out with you because you'd always run off, to him, for him. your lack of energy doesn't go unnoticed, and obviously it's brought up. just not in the nicest way. you're accused of not putting any effort into the relationship, and this sets you off-you see literal red.

‘i don’t know what you’re talking about theo.’ you sigh, standing up.

‘i’m talking about the 0 effort you put into our relationship,’ he says pacing across his dorm room and rubbing his temple. ‘every time we get time alone it’s like as if you can’t wait to fucking go back to your friends or some shit, what the fuck is going on.’

‘what’s going on? what’s going on?’ you seethe, walking right up to him. ‘i’ll tell you what’s going on. it’s that i can’t take this fucking secret thing further. there i said it, i CANT do it.‘ you wave your hands up in surrender.

‘so what, that’s it?’

‘i don’t know, do you want it like that? theo we can’t even talk until we’re behind closed doors, it’s like we’re trapped. you say i put no energy and effort into this, but maybe it’s because i use it all up lying and making excuses for us. it’s not working out..’

the argument only ended with tears and slammed doors. nights that you used to smoke with theo on, turned into nights you sat by yourself, leaning your head against the window, accompanied by only your thoughts. every day going to lessons and acting normal was truly a test, especially when theo would still catch you with his longing eyes across the room. it was so hard but you couldn’t give up, you owed yourself at least that much. your heart yearned for the boy, for the way he would brush your hair out of your face, for the way he would look at you- like you were the prettiest girl in the world, for the way he’d play with your hands every time you slept. it was getting harder and harder by the day, and theo wasn’t finding it any easier. he also longed for how your fingers would play with his hair, for how your nails would scratch down his back. so it wasn’t long before the both of you snapped, and there you guys were making out in the corner of the empty corridor. your top two buttons undone and theo’s hands firmly planted at the sides of your waist, lifting your shirt up a bit as his fingers pressed into your skin. you felt his lips slowly travelling to the middle of your neck, your head leaning back against the wall to allow him as much skin as you could. his lips trailed back up again, finding your jawline as he pressed kisses along. the scene caused the majority of the students walking by, to avert their eyes and fasten their pace down the corridor.

i think it’s pretty much official now.

#i think pt 4’s come to a natural ending.. right.. #id like to confirm that there will not be a pt 5 xoxo #because i genuinely would not know what to write, but hopefully you guys enjoyed the (very unplanned) series♡ #lots of love xoxo

taglist: @iamgayforyourmom1510 @lovelyygirl8

[shotmrmiller]

Capt’ Mactavish’s wife *running* out the house for her girls night with ‘09 reader because Johnny can’t keep his hands to himself when she’s dressed up.

She’s taken to a squirt bottle. He was kissing on her neck from behind the couch. Mauling her when she whipped it out the first time. He fell back with an ‘ACK!’ and a loud thud and she’s just like ‘that’s what you get for acting like a horny teen!’

“You were tryin’ for a bairne yea? I’ve been reading up on positions! Lemme show you!” And she’s just like- I’m not going to survive this, am I? “I can pick up where we left off hen! Trust!”

I imagine Captain Mactavish went for a woman who is *younger* than himself. She’s a few years older than Soap, but she grew used to her grizzled ol’ guy and his routine! She’s old at heart now! He couldn’t immediately get it up every 3 minutes. But! He would take longer to cum, so the sessions were more intimate.

Soap? God, she’s not used to this! She needs water! They’re going into 5, 6 rounds and she’s blacking out! But, she doesn’t want to because she’s ‘scared’ he’ll keep going!!! She enjoys his enthusiasm, it’s sweet to see this part of her Johnny that she didn’t get to experience much! but, GOD DAMN *sprays squirt bottle*

…”this a subliminal message lass? This your mind trick to tell me you can squirt? Shit lass! Let’s get on that! Lemme figure it out myself!” Just talking you through the entire thing….

He’s totally asking what the baby names you were looking at were, while balls deep. what your registry looked like as he prods your cervix. Do ya’ have a Pinterest board for what ya’ want the nursery to look like? Add him, please? As he shoots his load deep. “You want a girl, or boy lass? What’re we havin’? Tell me what to give ya.” He cooed as he holds your legs up, elevated so it TAKES.

“I can pick up where we left off hen! Trust!” <- foul. foul foul foul i need him.

Captain MacTavish would totally be the sly type. Oh, the words he whispers into the ears of the ladies should be illegal. I believe he had his fun in his youth and was definitely a little older, but then he saw his wife and said, "Gunnae marry that, I am."

Wife doesn't see the similarities in their pursuit of her because one was suave about it. the other just doesn't care about what he looks like in the eyes of others, and she highkey loves that— just won't admit it.

I love love love that Capt. Soap is passionate when they have sex, but reg Soap is like im gonna get you pregnant, money back guarantee.

"Whadye mean tha' ye need a break? We've jus' begun, bonnie..." he says that 5 rounds in. Pussy is swollen, hole is abused, and she's been stuffed with so much cum it's no longer staying inside even at the angle he has her in to keep it in. She makes a mental note to (ask jeeves) if shooting blanks after finishing multiple times back-to-back is a thing.

She finds squirting embarrassing, as does when her cunt gets air inside but Soap??? Living his best life with it.

"Dinnae be embarrassed, hen, i love it when yer pussy talks back to me." <- this is so embarrassing my face is on fire

He definitely tries to get her to squirt, but he loses all patience because 'Ye just feel so good around my fingers, I cannae wait any longer.'

Soap tells her that his family has twins as he pumps her full of cum, and that he already has a list with names if she wants to go over it sometime later today.

He tells her that he's quit drinking, he's always hydrating, and that he takes his daily vitamins just to give his seed a better chance.

[shibusawaz]

ok PHIGHTING COMIC SPOILERS AHEAD but im SUCH a big fan of how the colors in medkit’s perspective set his mood. [NONSENSICAL RAMBLE INCOMING]

like see how we get this sort of dull warm coloring right?? like, in my mind, when the world is dull like this it’s showing just the mundane and tired aspects of his daily life right. its dull but in a way it’s comfortable, the warm colors kinda showing he’s a little bit used to this and just. chill

then BAM. instant rewind with him getting the call, his expression isnt hammering in his surprise and anxiety HIS COLOR IS

so in my mind that’s like. his routine completely interrupted. notice how the cyan quite literally cuts into the other panel. like, this phone call is SUCH an interruption to him

and now finally for the SUSPENSE part. i love the lighting and tone on the phone call scenes so much do not even speak to me

red is, in a lot of cases, a color used for alarm. im not surprised about that at all but what hammers it in here is the LIGHTING. that contrast between dark purple and the way medkit himself’s colors are dulled by the fucking phone like this has taken over his life and overshadowed him. the red lighting also really does it for me. also a big fan again of the contrast, everything else is so dull from medkit’s perspective and then suddenly there is just this ALARMING presence. like if you don’t get the vibe from just his face, that angry red phone in comparison to everything else he sees being calmer colors is sure to tell you that man feels THREATENED

anyways medkit so cool big fan of this guy soda is such a fantastic artist

[lovingly-dedicated]

Hey, gang!

There's just three weeks until Marxolor Week '24! A celebration of our favorite trickster duo in whatever form you love them best!

Have you seen our [Prompt] list? (You can find [Rules] here!)

Have you read it but you're still struggling to come up with something? If so, then read below as I go over the prompts and throw some ideas out to help stoke the fires of your imagination!!

Day 1: "Conflict" or "Meeting." 

We love 'em because they've got so much in common, but these two can't be in perfect sync all the time. For those times when they aren't, there's "Conflict." (Or maybe, it's someone else they're in conflict with? Do these two make a good team in a fight?)

"Meeting" could be anything from how they met the first time to the duo meeting up to plan for their next scheme! Or maybe, they're meeting up for something more private and personal...? /SFW

Day 2: "Curiosity" or "Mirrored"

What was it that initially drew the two of them to each other? What catches their interest? Have they learned something new about themselves? Or their world? ...Maybe the reason why they stick together is the "Curiosity" to everyone around them!

With all those similarities, Marx and Magolor's stories are mirror images in many ways. Even their bodies feel like they're "Mirrored" Or you could use this prompt to jump into the Mirror World and see how they are there, or how they'd react to meeting each other! (Or even draw them making silly faces at a funhouse mirror!)

Day 3: "Cunning" or "Magic"

Marx and Magolor each specialize in their own brand of "Cunning." Outright lies for Magolor; deceptive withholding of the truth for Marx. Will they use these against each other...or team up? Cunning can be about deceptively innocent and cute looks too. Perhaps you'll want to explore these borb-shaped wolves in sheep's clothing?

A wizard and a magician! You could use them to talk about "Magic" theory. Or explore what each one can do that the other can't? (Are they jealous?) Or...is it like magic when they look into each other's eyes? Maybe Magolor helps Marx with a magic show?

Day 4: "Clockwork" or "Majesty"

There's that darn clockwork star again! Has Marx told Magolor the story of Galactic Nova? What if he takes him there on a trip? Has wishing on a Nova affected Marx in a way Magolor can tell? ...Or maybe, something in their daily routine happens like "Clockwork."

"Majesty" brings to mind kings and their crowns and Magolor surely has something to say about that messy business! Does Marx have something to say too? Speaking of Marx, if Magolor was going to be a king, you can't forget the existence of the court's jester!

Day 5: "Control" and "Mischief"

The song is no longer known as "Under My Control" but this word's relevant! Do they have full "Control" over their powers? Can they control their feelings for each other? Can Magolor control his evil laughter? Can Marx control himself in general? (They could be holding a pair of game controllers or fighting for a remote control!)

Let's face it! When do these two NOT get up to "Mischief"? Now, do they have different views on what's fair play in the prank game? Maybe you'll want to explore what their best victory against their chosen target was? ...What was their most humiliating defeat?

Day 6: "Chaos" and "Melancholy"

"Chaos" is a step up from mischief and tends to cause more problems for everyone involved; it has greater lasting effects too... Has their bond ever brought TOO much chaos? ...Or maybe Magolor lets Marx stay on the Lor and it turns into complete chaos?

Both have suffered game-ending defeats and with those come deep scars. What are they like when "Melancholy" strikes? Maybe their relationship has taken a melancholic turn? Could they be going through a rough patch or realizing for the first time there might be more to their relationship and don't want things to change?

Day 7: "Comfort" or "Merry"

When are they most comfortable together? Do the two have a favorite comfort spot to go to? Do they maybe hug (or punch!) a plushie of each other when in a bad mood? Maybe one has a surefire recipe to "Comfort" the other in sad times?

The major key compliment to comfort's minor key is "Merry!" What gets them laughing so hard they can't stop? What's a favorite event or landmark in their life they'll never forget? Or you could throw Marx into Merry Magoland with Magolor and see what happens!

[codeandcanvas]

If you can read this, we are mutuals now

I spent a few hours looking at my social accounts, and decided to prune and slim both types of social directions, until I ended up with what I have called Camp Rock Bottom over on my mastodon server (I love that thing; it is completely unhinged social software, you need to update it fairly often, your server gets assaulted by hundreds of automated requests per day, there are some really skeezy server names showing up in your logs; it is like the old web in itself, full stop):

The facts about Camp Rock Bottom are easily listed, like this:

I am 42 years old; this either means something to you or it doesn’t, but be aware that you know of what those in disagreement with you would say

nobody outside of mutuals knows I exist, and of those mutuals

barely anyone has seen any work by me, outside of works done for my graphic design study

I am recovering from a what I would assume is/was a really bad case of sleep apnea

And I feel like this is exactly the right spot to build–whatever it is I want to build, whatever it is I need to build.

My study interests are illustration, and graphics (both 2d and 3d), so I put it into my head that I need to read and study all material I can get my hands on, while working at applying this knowledge daily.

I have finally arrived at a point in my life where I appreciate being healthy as something worth of my attention. Not as a resource to spend on something, but as the thing itself about life.

This is from where I start. This is from where I start again.

It is like that time I quit smoking for good: I quit many times before, but I think the seventh time stuck, because kept at starting.

I have spent the last few months making all kinds of things work for me in a way that might possibly, ideally be of value to someone else, but in general I made them work for me: my own website, where I post, what I post, how I back it all up, and by that, I took a huge load off of my mind, one I wasn’t aware of in the slightest.

If you ask me about procrastination now, I would possibly try to say the following:

In my case, I was procrastinating without knowing it, because what looked like procrastinating on the important things, was instead ignorance of what I valued and thought was important to focus on.

Find your own way and don’t get disctracted by everyone else running around differently from you, I guess.

So, will this work? Can I do it like this? I don’t know, but I am willing to start again and again, until it sticks.

Sometimes things don’t work out. I took an image of a book I pulled from the shelf, and while I was doing some routine file management, I noticed that I have taken the exact same image of it months ago.

Same shot, same crop, same comp. And I realized that my heart is not in it: I don’t feel like taking photos of what I own or have. I am not doing that anymore, because I think it’s tacky, especially tacky if not prompted (like answering questions nobody has asked, and this blog post is really close to that, too). I want to do what I want. And above all: I want to be free to do what I want.

So hi again to everyone who can read this! This, too, is part of my work. To build from rock bottom.

And I would love to have someone close to this same rock bottom in terms of graphic design and art, who is also not interested in cultivating any persona. I will be around, in case you show up.

Looking forward to meeting you on the web.

[connecting-the-stars]

Children of the Gods: Beacon Hills’ Demigods

Scott McCall - Child of Apollo

Being the son of a wise, stubborn, and golden hearted mother, Melissa McCall has raised her son in her values. Always being the first to intercept danger from be falling another, a steady hand which has mastered the art of healing, and shines his warm, protective presence upon his friends. He’s more like his father than he’ll ever know, being the blood of healing, light, and an unyielding shield for the young.

The Mom Friend. His job is to pack everyone’s lunches and hold his friends drinks at parties.

Stiles Stilinski - Child of Athena

What he lacks for in social elegance and all around sure steps, Stiles makes up for with his sharp tongue and determined beyond measure mind. If there is a way, the demigod will whittle his crafty hand through to achieve it. What many assume to be as clumsy as he is in his daily routine, his enemies soon find a stiletto posed against their jugular. Monsters have to scrap their bull headed approach if they want a chance of killing this son of Athena.

He’ll trip over air but he will use a pencil to disarm you. His job is comedic relief and Shiny Knife.

Lydia Martian - Child of Aphrodite

Is she the crimson apple of every classmate’s eye? Yes. Does she have the highest GPA among every single one of her courses. Also yes. Whether it’s tutoring her friends through their trigonometry and calculus assignments, or handing out advice on how to turn guys down, Lydia is a woman as adaptive as a promising Athena child could be. Though, she is keenly aware of how effective pleasure and beauty can be when wielded with a charming smile.

She’s so Barbie. High Achiever. Speaks Facts.

Malia Tate - Child of Ares

She can and will kick your teeth in. Why? Maybe you insulted Stiles’ fast paced and ranting speech patterns, or cut Kira in line for stupid cafeteria mashed potatoes. Or maybe you just smiled wrong when she revealed her score on the latest exam, ending with some blood getting on the crumpled stack of papers, somehow. With a unrelenting and one track mind, Malia’s bloodline isn’t that hard to track, especially when she catches even a whisper of the latest monster attack. She’ll be out the door of her algebra class before the doors have swung close.

“You don’t get to bully them, that’s my job” Friend. Tried to teach Liam how to fight - he’s nearly died twice. Barbie if Barbie was feral and had an axe.

Kira Yukimura - Child of Hephaestus

Daughter of the Greek god of artisans, metalworking, and fire, Kira is a shining prodigy among the her siblings. Taken with the art of metal work as she shapes searing metal into beautiful, deadly effective tools. Her fondest achievements becoming her versatile supply of weapons, gleaming obsidian, shurikens as well as her steady sword. If her arm is decorated with three bracelets of various blinding reds, five detailed rings across her hands of neon yellow and her ears have one too many cuffs that are definitely about to fall off, she’ll tell you she’s just really into jewelry right now.

Doesn’t choose sides in a debate friend. Will do your homework if you let her. Show Off but Subtle. Metalwork Barbie who can and will talk to you about all her weapons.

[j-graysonlibrary]

His Transgressions Built It: Chapter 8

Title: His Transgressions Built It

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 51K

Genres: psychological horror, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website and on Kobo

Synopsis: After living almost a decade estranged from his family because of his transition, Noah is called back to his hometown to take care of his young niece and nephew when their parents die suddenly. Because the children only know of their distant "aunt", Noah pretends to be his own husband in order to not explain himself or cause further issues. But, in doing so, he has to navigate the small town, filled to the brim with his childhood trauma, under the guise of a complete stranger.

Full Chapter 8 under the cut

VIII:

His sins are becoming innumerable.

Noah knows he is in the wrong for lying to Kiki—for inflicting unnecessary grief on her but he is constantly trying to find reason in it. He can’t, he tells himself every time he is faced with this terrible thing.

He’s already started the lie. 

He doesn’t know how she’ll react to the truth.

When he told his mother that he was thinking about taking testosterone, she acted as if she was losing her child. She grieved him, up until her dying day.

Maybe Kiki would grieve Mary all the same, because of his transition. How is he to know her mind? She could see the birth of Noah as the death of Mary and, with more pain on Noah’s end, they’d wind up at the same destination they were already at.

But he must assume the worst in Kiki to justify it.

And that, too, feels unfair to her.

Despite this, Noah continues to visit her at the bowling alley, stopping in for a drink almost daily. They don’t always talk about Mary or even sad things. It’s a ray of sunshine, in the storm of a town, and Noah finds himself driving there when his mind is blank or vulnerable.

He’s noticing the floor sinking less, at the house, because he’s got Kiki on his mind and his mother’s ghost isn’t roaming the halls quite so often. If he goes a day without his new fix, he’ll see her, guaranteed.

There is someone else he sees.

He’s not confined to one area, however, and he’s no ghost.

Plastic rustles and paper tears. In the dead of night, Noah crouches in the master bath, trying to make as little noise as possible. Erin and Bryce are probably asleep anyway but the fan is on the fritz, causing every sound to grow and echo and he doesn’t want to try to explain what he’s doing.

He doesn’t have to. He’s the adult. He forgets that though.

The needle pierces the top of the vial. He takes a lower dose, now that his uterus is gone, but he still needs a weekly injection.

He pinches his belly, to the point of discomfort, and leads the needle to his pale flesh.

No, he hasn’t taken his weekly shot. He’s forgotten, now for the second week in a row, and he mentally flagellates himself over the misstep. When he was in the city, he never forgot, even when work was horrendously stressful. He had a routine to it. He never even had to remind himself…

Noah pushes the cart around the grocery store where he’s more acquainted with the cashiers than his own family at the house. Those kids eat through their snacks like ravenous beasts and he always ends up returning to restock before the end of the week.

By himself, he could pace out trips to the grocery for every other week. He froze a lot of meals, too, stretching things out to their limits.

Erin hates left-overs and Bryce is a picky eater in general.

No matter what Noah tells them, they’d both sooner go without eating than just eat something slightly outside of their comfort zone. He’s irate about this and it probably shows when he leaves for the store, telling them to stay behind and entertain themselves at the house.

Going to the store alone is preferable to going with them. The last time Noah brought them along, he left with a much lighter wallet.

Money siphoning aside, they don’t walk fast enough and if Noah sees his phantom again, as he suspects he will, he needs to be able to sprint away or, at least, duck and hide.

Just about everywhere he goes, except for the bowling alley, he sees Father Christopher.

He’s got some homing device on him, with a Noah specific frequency. It’s a wild coincidence otherwise but Noah’s too sick over it to ask him, to his face.

Christopher will probably just cite the Lord being at work, anyway.

Noah’s eyes dart from one side of the aisle to the other as he pushes the cart. He’s looking out for items on the list as well as Christopher. If he’s cornered here, he’s not sure he can escape and he’s worried he’ll cave, just to go home, and agree to see a sermon.

He could lie. He’s lying about everything else.

But then, if he stands the priest up and runs into him again, later, he’ll have to explain himself.

Every step, even the mental ones, trip Noah up. His feet are tangled in rope. He’ll fall from the window and hang, wrapped up in a binding of his own making.

He hears talking from around the other aisle so he slows. To make himself look less suspicious, he inspects the products on the end-cap, pretending he’s interested.

“It’s a real shame,” a woman says with a heavy sigh.

“You’re tellin’ me. All these kids…just taken in the blink of an eye,” another woman, promptly, agrees.

Woman number-one responds, “They’re lost. Truly lost.”

“And nothin’ we say helps. I feel like we’re being ignored while this keeps happening.” Woman number-two has a flair of anger in her voice.

Noah frowns. He’s not up to date on the news—he’s stopped watching the local station because of the nightmares it gives him. Tommy Goodson showed up in one too many of his dreams so he’s kept the TV, mostly, off unless the kids want to watch something.

All that to say, if there are children going missing, he’s heard nothing of it. Kiki hasn’t mentioned it, neither has Shaun, and the random people he’s forced into conversation with have been decidedly silent on this matter as well. It doesn’t sound like a brand new phenomenon either with the way the women voice their fatigue over it.

They go quiet, all of a sudden, and Noah is propelled into motion. He doesn’t want them to round the corner and see him there, even if he does have some questions.

Is it in this town, in particular? Or is this something just in the general area? Or, could it be somewhere across the country but these women have a connection or just an unhealthy interest in it?

Noah is glad to see no sign of Christopher as he finishes his shopping but now he has this weird news story floating around in his head. He considers asking Erin and Bryce but he doesn’t want to scare them. They don’t even bother locking the door. They feel completely safe in their home and, although Noah wishes they would take more care, he doesn’t want to traumatize them senselessly either.

The cashier rings up his groceries and she gives Noah a sly smile when she scans the small, clear bottle in her hand. It’s yet another reason Noah didn’t bring his niece and nephew with him. “Big plans this weekend?” she asks.

“…Just in case.” Noah is awkward to answer as he hadn’t expected to be called out on the lubrication. It’s personal and it’s just for him. His body, in a post-menopause-like state, makes little to no moisture on it’s own. He hasn’t brought himself to venture in that vicinity, not since the move, but he’s been feeling more compelled lately. And, if he decides to try, he’ll need a dollop or two of help.

She winks, the cashier does, and continues her job. It’s not anything anyone in the city would even notice, much less comment on.

Noah takes his cart out, full of bags, and each footstep against the asphalt is consistently painful. Vibrations shoot up into his legs, knocking against his kneecaps, and making him wince. He’s parked too far away and, beside his car, stands Christopher.

There is nowhere to hide—he’s already been spotted.

“You heard about the lost children?” Christopher, strangely, opens with that.

Noah slows his cart, stopping behind his car, and he frowns. “…What?”

“Those kids that keep disappearing. You heard, right?” The priest smiles.

“I don’t know anything about it, Father…” Noah tries to ignore him and load up his car. He no longer cares about being seen as rude—this is too strange now. He needs to leave.

“Several children in the area are vanishing. Some people think they’re being led off but we don’t know for sure. One day they’re here, the next, they’re not.” Christopher watches him set all the bags down, filling the space with no wiggle room. He continues to watch as he shuts the trunk and grips the empty cart.

Before Noah can direct the cart into a return, the priest reaches for him. All of his muscles tense and his feet refuse to move in spite of all the screaming he’s doing in his mind.

The second Christopher’s hand touches Noah’s arm, the sun expands and turns white. It’s too bright for anyone to look at and he’s forced to either close his eyes or have them boil in their sockets.

Then, darkness. It’s brief, maybe only two seconds, before a different, gentler light graces Noah’s eyelids. It coaxes him, a faint whispering accompanying it and caressing his ears. He no longer feels Christopher’s hand around his forearm so he may even be safe.

It’s the side of the road and an open plot of land rests before him. The same one he passes every time he goes to the grocery. The church has it’s doors open and the light emits from within it. When the whispering grows louder, Noah floats forward.

He has no choice. His toes point down, trying to find the ground, but they simply catch gravel and drag pebbles with him. His breath hitches. He can’t look away. The light is warm now. It tingles on contact.

God’s in there.

Noah gasps like he’s just broken the surface of water and he’s as wet as if he’s been swimming too. He’s in his bed though and it’s no later than three in the morning.

His stomach clenches and churns, he’s not sure how much is from the dream and how much is from dinner. He’s not prepared to return to sleep, either way, and hopes to, at least, take care of the physical discomfort with a trip to the bathroom.

As he plods to the door on the right of the bed, a relatively short distance usually, he’s hit with sharp pains all in his abdomen. He holds his stomach as he marches forward but it’s bafflingly difficult. More sweat runs down his face and his legs threaten to give out.

Pangs of deep, throbbing pain spread out from his stomach—up his back and down to his thighs. It’s not a pain he’s felt in years but he hasn’t forgotten it for a second.

As soon as Noah is capable, he peels down his shorts, a true feat with how they cling to his wet skin. He sits down on the toilet and holds in the cry that bubbles to the top of his throat. The sensation is debilitating. He could easily pass out if it keeps up.

Splashing. Dropping. Whatever is hitting the water under him is not merely urine but it’s thicker than he expects. Much thicker than he remembers.

His face must be red with the strain he’s putting into emptying his body. Just when he thinks it’s done, another wave comes and he’s losing energy by the second. The stabbing, jolting pains are lessening which is a victory he’s barely able to celebrate. His eyelids droop and he nearly loses consciousness.

Noah grasps the counter beside the toilet, using the rounded edge to press his palm into. The new pain—the different pain—keeps him alert until, at last, the dripping between his legs stops.

He takes several big, boisterous breaths, attempting to psyche himself up for what he will see. It’s no use, certainly, as whatever is there cannot be explained. He’s missed two weeks of testosterone, sure, but he no longer has a uterus. This can’t be happening.

With a second wind, little as it is, Noah lifts himself from the toilet just so he can flip the light switch on. He falls back to the seat, exhausted. He’s got static around his head and there aren’t many thoughts that form. He’s too far gone for that.

But he lowers his head and opens his thighs. It’s still dark, in the water below, but he can see where the blood has splashed onto him. His inner thighs are painted and he pulls some toilet paper over, now knowing for sure what is waiting for him.

When he wipes, he pulls back with a trembling hand to see not just blood but clumps of flesh. They’re long, webby, and they glisten under the light. He uses the tissue to prod it, feeling the texture under the paper and finding it bouncy.

Noah gulps. His sweat is dried now but cold. He’s shivering.

Despite himself, he stands from the toilet and turns to look at the bowl, un-obscured.

It’s filled with blood—an entire day’s worth, he guesses. Larger chunks of flesh float up on the surface and one, in particular, houses a long tube. It’s sticking up from the water and Noah begins to lean closer, attempting to get a better look.

The tube twitches, sending him upright. Then, the bloody water bubbles and the tube begins to whip about, furiously. It’s alive. It’s screaming. Noah’s screaming too.

He slams the toilet lid closed and backpedals but he’s still got his shorts around his ankles so he falls. He hits his head against the door and the screaming stops.

His pain, too, vanishes.

He awakes later in the morning.

[bollywood143114]

Who is Alena Khalifah? Katrina-Aishwarya is pale in front of Salman Khan who proposed marriage!

Alena Khalifah K, Alena Khalifah Recommended Salman Khan: Whenever Bollywood's Dabangg Bhaijaan Salman Khan goes anywhere, the talk of his marriage from his girlfriend also follows him. In such a scenario, Salman Khan recently arrived at the IIFA Awards function 2023 to be held in Abu Dhabi, where a video is increasingly going viral on social media. What's special is that in this video, Alina Khalfih is not only seen openly proposing to Salman Khan, but she is also declaring her love in front of the whole world. In this situation, questions have started to arise in everyone's mind about Alina Khalfih, who came to the headlines by proposing to Salman. Everyone wants to know who Alaina Khalfih is and what she does? Who is Alina Khalfeh? After proposing marriage to Salman Khan, social media is abuzz with Alina Khalfi. Everyone is interested in knowing who Alaina Khalfeh is? In such situation, we say that Alina Khalfih is a digital content creator and her popularity on social media is very high. Alina is very active on social media and shares her daily routine with her fans. Alina has 90.5 thousand followers on Instagram. Alina always entertains fans by sharing pictures of her daring and glamorous avatar on Instagram. Fans also showered a lot of love on Alina's beautiful style. Alina also runs her own show. Apart from this he also works with fame masterclass.com. Alina proposed to Salman People from all over the world have come to capture the IIFA 2023 event on their cameras. One of these names is Alina Khalfih. When Alina Khalfih reached in front of Salman Khan, she said I came from Hollywood just to pop the question, I fell in love with you from the moment I saw you. Now Salman Khan said - You are talking about Shah Rukh Khan, right...? What will Salman Khan say about Alina's proposal? Then Alina said to Salman - I am talking about Salman Khan. Will you marry me…? In response, Salman Khan is seen repeating his old answer and says - My wedding day is gone... Hearing Salman's answer, Alina asks why. So Salman said - You should have met me 20 years ago. Salman and Alina Khalfih's video is going viral on social media and fans are seen reacting differently. DISCLAIMER Thanks For Visit Our Site www.bollywoodofindia.com . We’ve taken all measures to insure that the information handed in this composition and on our social media platform is believable, vindicated and sourced from other Big media Houses. For any feedback or complaint, reach out to us at bollywoodofindiaa@gmail.com Read the full article

[tazimhasan]

My journey to becoming a blogger

Like many, I write as a hobby. Even though I’m not that good at it, I’ve been writing in my diaries for over 5 years now.

Personal journals, short stories and documenting the process have been a part of my daily routine for more than 5 years. These always helped me get to know myself better and recall exactly what I had for breakfast.

Neil Patel's blog, Nerd Wallet, Nerd Fitness, The Art of Manliness, CoinDesk, and some others on Medium have been my favourite blog pages for a long time.

I've always wanted to start my own blog page and share awesome stuff I know but never had the motivation to do so; I just kept making excuses every single time.

Then, about a year ago, COVID started to rise in my town, and many people started losing their jobs because of that. 

Now, I come from a middle-class family in a nation that's still being developed. We are doing really well here, but I wouldn’t say we are completely free of all our worries.

So, the situation above wasn't that far away from us.

That's when I really started to think about it.

As covid rose, lockdown started, leaving no way for me to go outside or even to school.

This sudden change in lifestyle really made me glued to the screen all day, scrolling social media and playing video games.

And blogging just slipped past my head for a while.

But soon, it hit me again—starting my own blog page, doing something productive with my time instead of wasting it.

And so I finally decided to step out of my cave, face these doubts I’ve had in my mind and do what I’ve always wanted to do for so long.

Out of all the decisions I made, this has to be the biggest and probably the best one yet, who knows?

Let me show you:

What would others think?

I know, everybody has thought about it loads of times and some are probably thinking about it right now.

But of course, deep down, we all know that they don't care or ever will until you actually manage to bell the cat.

I used to think about others too—what will my friends and family say? What if others at school make fun of me?

But then I slowly started to realise that the number of people in my life who think about me on a daily basis is on average every 5 in 0. 

Except my parents.

The few people whom I told that I was gonna start a blog page and write about things said nothing as I thought they would; they were just chill about it.

 And they probably forgot about it by now.

Take this story from "Psych Central" for instance:

"While seeking approval from others may be inevitable, problems may arise depending on how far one goes down that road. When caring how other people perceive us interferes with our own intuition, that’s when you may need to simply follow your heart and do what you feel is right. If you find yourself biting your lip from saying a quirky comment out of fear that others will raise their eyebrows in judgement, maybe that’s a time to try to bury that mindset and just be yourself." - taken from this article

In the end, whatever anyone is saying to you, remember that you're the only one who knows what's actually the best for you, so don't let others judge you.

What should I write about?

Chances are, you've probably come across videos or blog posts starting with a title like this:

"30 Day Weight Loss Journey: Before and After!"

"I tried the most productive daily routine for 30 days—here’s what happened."

"Weight Lifting Transformation: Day 1–30"

Many people post videos and posts online sharing their experience with a certain habit, career path etc that they’ve tried and how it affected them.

You likely haven’t done this kind of work before or haven’t tried this habit yet.

But many others have, wouldn’t it be interesting to know how they did it?

And you can tell by their view count that other people find it very interesting.

Whether you want to try out the habit yourself or not, there’s always some curiosity everyone has about new things.

And this curiosity never ends, even if we already know about that particular habit.

For example, I’ve been working out for the past 6 months. And in the meantime, I’ve read hundreds of articles about fitness and made many changes to my routine based on those articles.

It's not like I change my routine every time I see something new, but I still read them anyway.

Who knows, maybe I am doing this exercise wrong and need to be corrected before I badly injure myself or something like that.

Ultimately, what I mean is,

All these Behind-the-Scenes and Transformation videos and articles online are getting millions of views daily because people are very interested in knowing how things are really made and what happens behind the curtains.

So, that’s why I decided that I am gonna document my journey on my blog page and share my experience with all the people around the world who want to know how to get started in starting their own blog page and writing online.

Why would anyone want to read my blog posts?

I don’t have any experience blogging or writing online; I am a total beginner, and so why would anyone want to read my blog posts?

When they can just read other bloggers out there with way more experience and a larger audience than me?

This makes sense, but,

This is actually the reason why someone might prefer reading my posts more than other experienced bloggers out there.

This is something known as "The curse of knowledge"

It’s when you become so good at something that you forget what it was like to be a beginner.

Most people, when they start to pursue something new, don’t have any prior experience about that topic and often get stuck because of that.

That’s when they start to look at others who are on the same path as them and find out what they did in that situation.

Now, skimming through a bunch of articles at once can be frustrating.

And since not everyone has the same level of understanding, a good amount of those articles won’t really come in handy.

And not to mention, writer’s block.

It happens to every beginner and is easily one of the main reasons why many people quit writing.

It makes you feel unmotivated and uninspired to begin because of doubts in writing itself and if it’s really the one for you.

This is why many people want to see an actual beginner do it.

Seeing a seed slowly grow into a tree can help overcome many of these insecurities and doubts they have in mind.

Of course, to succeed in writing, you have to learn from professionals too. Reading articles from experienced writers can help you a lot in this field.

But sometimes, a beginner can also be your favourite choice because they can explain it to you better than someone else and with real-time evidence.

How do I write a blog post?

As I said, I've been journaling and writing short stories in my diaries for more than 5 years now.

But I still felt like my writing wasn’t good enough for this.

I started writing multiple drafts and just scraping them before I even finished a page.

And I wasted a good amount of time doing just that. And this got me nowhere.

But then I finally realised that, "Writing is not about perfection"

If you keep thinking your ideas aren’t good enough, you’re just going to lose motivation.

Instead, the best thing you can do is just go for it and begin to shape your ideas, one at a time.

Then edit your drafts later.

So, I stopped looking for perfection and started to actually finish my drafts. Doing this helped me progress a lot in my next drafts.

Not gonna lie, the first few drafts came out as nothing as expected.

But it was still way better than the ones I wrote before it, which barely had a page in them.

Another thing that helped me overcome this problem is practising.

I would write at least one article every day.

This took me anywhere between 2-5 hours and sometimes more.

This way I couldn’t make any excuses and had to finish it on time, even if I didn’t "feel" like it.

Another thing to keep in mind about writing is that you can’t judge your own writing skills.

The only way to find out how good you really are, is by publishing content online and having others rate it.

So, even if you think your writing is bad, keep posting on your page and revising them as necessary based on the feedback you receive from readers.

Conclusion,

Thanks a lot for reading!

All these questions, doubts and excuses later, I finally managed to publish my first blog post online!

This took me way longer than expected but taught me many valuable tips along the way.

Now keep in mind that this isn't just my start—but many more who want to start their own blog page.

So, what’s holding you back?

Let me help you in the comments below!

[nojey]

reminiscing (fans 2)

dreamwastaken x streamer!reader

genre: angst pronouns: they / them word count: 2.1k warning(s): failed relationship, cursing

fans (part 1)

synopsis: after taking 6 months off from social media, you finally explain to your fans why you took so long and why you needed it.

go live. *click*

you watched as your chat strolled in and viewer count go up. your computer screen illuminating your face in the dark room as your webcam caught the nervous look. you were shaking your leg up and down, a habit you caught whenever you tried to calm yourself down. 

“hi everyone, it’s been a while since my last stream, huh?” you dryly chuckled. “it’s been about.. 6 months since i last streamed and at this point i think i’ve taken enough time to correctly word how i’m going to tell everyone why i decided to take a break from streaming.” you said looking down at the ground and fiddling with your fingers.

“uh, donation notifications will be off for this stream and chat will be on emotes only because i really just want to focus on getting this out. but if you plan on donating, thank you so much, really, it means the world to me.” you said finally looking at your webcam and smiling a bit. you read a chat and answer, “yes, i’m doing okay. i just have a big announcement i want to say after i tell you guys why i took a break.”

you took a deep breath in and started. “ over a year ago, almost 2, i met this guy through a friend and we started talking. it was very little at the beginning but as little as it was, his texts always made me smile.” you scratched the back of your neck. “and as time went on, we started talking more and more and he just became part of my daily routine. when i woke up i’d see a good morning text from him, we’d spend most of our day being on the phone with each other, i was even on facetime with him most of my streams but i had an airpod under my headset so you couldn’t really see it, i almost always fell asleep on facetime with him. i really fell for this guy.” you fondly smiled, looking at your desk, where your phone used to be propped up and you would see clays face just looking at you.

“then we started streaming together. ‘omg he’s a streamer too’ yeah, and a lot of you probably know who i’m talking about at this point but i still won’t disclose who it is. i uh, got a lot of messages from you guys telling me that i looked super happy that stream and i was. i was always happy when i talked to him. but along with those messages i also got a lot of hate, telling me to stay away from him. it didn’t really bother me because i always get hate when i stream with my guy friends; i was used to it.” you said, taking a sip from your water then wiping the side of your eye as it teared up. 

“and today... i’ll be going on the dream smp! with the man himself, dream. dream, say hi now.” you introduced, you waited a few seconds but was only met with silence. you grabbed your phone and sent him a voice message, “clay! you’re on deafen! introduce yourself!” you screamed into your phone. dream then took himself off deafen and said. “hi (y/s/n)’s chat! i’m dream, i’ll be showing (y/n) around the smp today and we’re gonna get started on their house.” you smiled fondly when you heard him speak. “yeah! what dream said!” 

so you both logged into the dream smp, said hi to sapnap, and dream gave you a tour. you then started building your house in a forest, quite far from everyone else, “i don’t want anyone bothering you or ruining your house when you’re not on.” he explained. you told dream you wanted to build a cottage so if anyone does end up stumbling upon it, it looks welcoming to them. so dream started building your house for you even though you insisted you do it together. “dream! let me help, this is supposed to be my house.” you dragged. “well we can both decorate inside and make it our house.” you started blushing. “i guess..” you mumbled. you then started adventuring out to look for flowers and some things to decorate the house with.

you started placing flowers down into flower pots when you noticed something. “dream there’s only one bedroom.” you mentioned. he slowly turned around to look at you and quickly turned back and placed two beds next to each other. “this is our room, dumbass.”

later that night you checked your twitter dms and saw many people telling you to stop talking to dream and that you weren’t good enough to even know him. you sighed and powered down your phone.

“i think a few weeks after that he asked me if i could fly out to him and we’d meet in person. i was so excited i immediately started packing and i met him. it was amazing! i got to meet the guy i’ve been in love with for the past few months. i think it may have been a year already. but yeah, i finally got to meet him and being in his arms was the best feeling in the world, i felt so safe being with him.”

“it was the day after that, when he asked me on a date and i, of course, said yes. like who would say no to the person they fell in love with... so we went on a date and at the end of it we were just sitting on top of the hood of the car, eating dinner, watching the sunset and talking about a future we wanted together. and it may seem like we were moving fast but i knew 7 months into talking to him that he felt the same way about me. no matter if either of us disclosed it. i could tell and i knew he knew the same about me. then i went home and everything was perfect, i wasn’t his girlfriend yet though because we wanted to wait a bit.”

“that’s when everything went downhill, i think” you looked up to try to stop the tears from going down your face, but they fell anyways so you just let it be.

“we started streaming more and more and i started getting more hate than i usually got, this time getting death threats, people threatening to leak my address if i didn’t stop being friends with him. it was crazy but i was willing to endure it all for him. who cares what people on the internet are going to say to me? i really didn’t because i was happy enough with him that, that happiness overcame whatever type of hate i was getting.” tears kept falling from your eyes but you didn’t bother to wipe it, knowing it would just keep happening.

“dude you’re so annoying! you definitely cheated!” you screamed as you died. through your headset you could hear clay wheezing. “there was no way i was cheating!” he said through his laughs. “ask my chat, they saw the whole thing.” you breathed out, not wanting to believe him till a dono was sent to you, “yeah, (y/n) you just suck at this game,” you gasped, your jaw hanging then you started pouting. it was clipped and one of your viewers sent it to dream. he suddenly started laughing harder and you asked him why he was laughing, with a pout still on your face. “even your chat knows i didn’t cheat!” you started laughing too, till you read a message in the chat saying, “ew, their laugh is ugly. i don’t know why dream likes them.” you stopped laughing but kept a fake smile on your face.

“then he called me and he told me that he didn’t think we should be dating anymore, or even be friends. and i think it was because he saw the hate i was getting and he didn’t like that. he told me a different reason as to why he didn’t think we should date anymore but i didn’t believe it, but i let him go. because i was not going to force him to be with me if he really did mean it. “ you said, sniffling after so you didn’t sound too congested as you spoke.

after you hung up, you curled into a ball and cried. you cried, and cried, and cried. the feeling in your chest hurting more than you could ever imagine. you just lost the guy you wanted to marry, the guy you had spent over a year going to because of your problems, the guys you saw having kids with, the guy that made everything worth it. he was the only person on your mind as the pain in your chest grew. you tweeted and powered your phone off straight after. you didn’t want anyone messaging you asking what was wrong, knowing your friends they would do that. 

“so the reason i took a break from streaming was because of that. because i resented the people that sent me hate so much i couldn’t bring myself to stream. i didn’t resent them because they sent me hate. i resent them because the hate they sent me caused the guy i really wanted to be with to make me believe he didn’t love me like i love him.” now, you were sobbing, letting your cry’s out because you had been holding them in for too long. 

it had been a few months and you were on snapchat, seeing that you had a memory a year ago today, you checked it. “i think i literally met my soulmate.” with a picture of you and clay in a discord call. your breath got caught in your throat and your breathing became labored. your eyes started stinging as the tears started falling. it’s happening again, all the pain from the day you stopped talking to him came back and once again, you were crying into your hands and you couldn’t stop.

“i had always known that becoming a streamer i would get hate, but i never thought that i would get enough hate to prevent a relationship i really wanted to work. now all i do is reminisce of a guy i wish could be mine”

“streaming has brought me so many opportunities and i am so grateful for everything you guys have done for me, and for me to be able to do something i love and make money from it is insane to me. you guys have given me everything i ever wanted in life up until that point and i am so grateful and appreciative of that. you guys gave me friendships that i will never lose and never forget. so many of you have told me that i’ve saved you and changed your lives but trust me when i say you guys have saved me and changed my life too. i hope i repaid you back by making you smile, being your comfort streamer, and being a support system for each of you. but i think this is my end of the road. i fucking love streaming, i love you guys. but every time i click that “go live” button or even try to, all i think about is him and that’s too painful for me right now. maybe in the future i’ll find my way back here but i can’t promise that.”

“thank you guys, so, so, so, so, much for every single opportunity given to me, for everything. i love you all. my dms are still open. and this was (y/s/n), signing off for possibly the last time. goodbye everyone.”

end stream. *click*

a tear rolling down his face and falling onto his keyboard as he watched you finally say goodbye to your stream. it all just felt like you were saying your last goodbye to him again. 

for the last 6 months all clay could do was think about you and how he wished he just messaged you and told you he was sorry and didn’t mean what he said. that he misses you and he would quit streaming if that meant he could be with you. that all he wanted was to feel you in his arms again and just live out the future you two planned together. 

but if you just said goodbye to your chat for your last stream because you couldn’t stand the thought of him whenever you tried to stream. how could you ever forgive him?

the thought of never speaking to you hit him once more and again, he cried, sobbed, screamed, threw things, and even then, he knew.. you would never be coming back to him, with every fiber in his being, wishing you would.

—————

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