#throwing in my thoughts now its not 5am

[klaxiaaa]

ngl i spent all that time bracing for orange getting murdered post match, accepting it even (hey his last time off was over 2 years ago he could use a vacation)

and instead he was just tossed aside and completely forgotten before his blood on the mat even had a chance to dry?

yeah. very cool.

so Orange just gets thrown to the side as soon as the match ends like he’s trash and him bleeding for this storyline/company didn’t mean shit?

Yeah. Cool.

Very. Cool.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

So weirdly enough I'm sick of being treated like shit

[fanaticsnail]

Maybe some other time, Wire

Hey Doc Masterlist

Word Count: 900+

Synopsis: Wire is curious about your past and asking a lot of questions. You would prefer if he left this for another time considering the operation you're performing.

Themes: Kid Pirates x gn!reader, platonic series, you are 'Doc', the doctor of the Kid Pirates. Risky language, not explicit, humour, Wire is being intrusive, he tests your patience. This started as a fun crack series, and I needed to bring it back.

Notes: Permissions for art used from @magnuspirate was given, and how beautiful is he? Go and have a look at their other work. I am obsessed with how they draw Heat, alongside the other Kid Pirates. I dreamed about this fic last night and woke up laughing a little bit about it. 5am fic writing, my beloved.

“Hey, Doc?” The calm and low baritone of the trident user called sweetly over his shoulder to you, “Why don't you like to talk about your past?”

His question seemed reasonable enough. You had yet to really discuss who you were, what you did, or anything to do with personal relationships before joining the Kid Pirates. You weren't a native to the North like the majority of the crew, being an outsider they let in when visiting a port.

Letting out a soft sigh, you shook your head and continued to make good on the taste you set for yourself. Knitting your brows tighter together, you pursed your lips and used your utensil to extract another small object between their pincers.

“I just don't particularly like talking about me,” you utter without inflection on the words, “It's not a pretty story, nor is it remotely interesting in my opinion.” You placed the object in a small container before making to go back for another, “Now, I would prefer to focus on what I'm doing, so if you would please refrain from asking me questions, I would appreciate it.”

Wire pondered for a few moments, humming softly as he thought more on your deflection of the question.

“You know, I'm no ships counselor,” Wire uttered defensively, “But even I know not to internalize your past, especially when it caused you such a hard injury earlier.”

You look down at your healed leg briefly, still feeling the sting of the object embedded in your muscle, and the sour flavor from the poison igniting your blood. Shaking it off, you once again return to what you had set yourself to do.

“You're right,” you agree with him, nodding briefly, “You're not ship's counselor. Now, please stop asking me questions about my past. I would be happy to answer anything you want soon, but not now.”

Wire seemed to take this as his queue to sit in silence as you plucked and prodded at your latest project. But that silence only lasted as long as his questions halted its burn.

“Who was that person?” Wire asked you suddenly, his voice a little louder than it had been moments prior, “And why did they attack you on sight?” You sighed through your nose at this, rolling your neck on your shoulders to rid it of tension from your hunched position.

“Some other time, Wire,” you growled, your voice low and laced with warning. Wire refused to take that as reason enough to stop, curiosity eating at him the longer you avoided it.

“And the poison?” he asked you suddenly, “Why did you have a cure under your bed? Were you expecting something like this?”

“Wire,” you made your voice a little louder, disciplinary and tough, “Enough. I am concentrating.”

“And why did-?” Wire began once more, prompting you to throw your tweezers into the tray beside you and move to where he was laying face down on the medical bay.

Bringing your eyes to his, you narrowed them and upturned your lip to a soft grimace.

“Wire, I said some other time,” you spoke firmly, “I did not say ‘no’, nor did I avoid the questions you’re asking.” You nod along, ensuring you maintained eye contact with him. “I will answer you, just not now. Do you understand?”

Wire furrowed his brows, his mop of dark and silvery curls dancing at his face with his hood laying on the medical office chair. Still reclining on his belly, his curiosity plagued him as he darted his eyes between yours.

“Why won't you answer me now? We're alone, you don't have to think about it, you can just speak,” he commented, gently reaching one of his larger hands towards you and giving your forearm a friendly squeeze. “I thought we were friends. You don't have to talk, but I can admit, the curiosity has been eating at me since we got back from our mission to that island together.”

You inhaled a deep lungful of air, expanding your chest with it, before deflating it through a lengthy exhale through your nose.

“Wire,” you warn him almost sweetly, “You are currently laying flat down, on your belly, on my examination bed with your briefs, shoes and fishnets tucked neatly on the chair in front of you.” You gesture towards the chair his hood was tucked on. “And I am currently operating extremely close to, and directly on, your anus.”

You gesture towards the tray, reminding him where he was, and who he was talking to. A warm blush flooded his whiskered cheeks, burning his features with the hot ignition of a large fluster.

“Now, while I appreciate the sentiment, and I adore you, commander,” you utter sweetly, returning to your position at his exposed rear cheeks, “Removing cactus spindles from your ass cheeks, inside and outside your rectum, and the ones you managed to collect on your scrotum…” you continued, picking up your tweezers and returning to your task, “...Is not the position I would like to be in when talking about my childhood.”

Wire gulped back his silence, burying his forehead on his butterflied out arms. The tips of his ears remained red as you continued, wanting to punish him a little for continuing to push your boundaries.

“The only place I appreciate winking at me when I talk is from the eyes attached to your face,” you comment, plucking another spindle from his flesh and placing it in the container beside you, “So, please refrain from asking me personal questions while I am so close to your sphincter. I think we would both prefer it if the mood for intimate conversation was set elsewhere. Am I clear, sir?”

Wire nodded, extending his left arm over his blushing head and gesturing with his thumb to confirm your orders.

“Aye, Doc,” he mumbled against his right arm, “You're clear.”

“Wonderful."

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @nerium-lil @sinning-23 @a-killer-obsession

[winniemaywebber]

It's Been A Long, Long Time • Part 2

💕 Jean 💕

read previous chapter here

warnings: 18+, oral (f receiving), mention of sexual intercourse.

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @agir1ukn0w @precious-little-scoundrel

Putting the finishing touches to your famous cherry pie, you remove your apron and walk into the living room, trying your best to swipe flour off your dress as you enter. 

“Pie is done, Binger,” you say quietly so as not to wake the baby in his arms. Yours and Harry's son had taken to mixing up his days and nights. Not a wink of sleep from midnight - what Bing liked to call his witching hour - until at least 5am. It had started to take its toll on the pair of you, the both of you sleeping in shifts for the most of a fortnight. You missed your husband dearly, despite being back in the same house. There was just something about savoring his arms around you, his nose snuffling into your neck as he slept, the comfort you'd been craving for years. You knew it was hard for him too: waking alone from a horrific nightmare, your soft hands not there to soothe him back to sleep and reassure him he's home and safe. 

Placing the baby in his bassinet, Harry gets up from the couch and stretches, yawning heavily before walking into the kitchen. 

“It looks wonderful, my love. He'll love it.”

“Are you sure?” you question, eyebrow raised a little. “You're sure he said that was his favorite?” 

“Yes, Mrs Crosby,” he laughs, kissing your forehead. “I like to think I'd remember these little things about my friends. Don't worry yourself so.” He pulls you into his arms and strokes your back, his nose falling into the crook of your neck. You feel yourself purr into him at the sensation of him tickling and kissing your neck, gasping a little. 

“He's asleep,” your husband murmurs. “Come to bed with me, darling.” 

“But Rosie will be here any moment and…ahhh–” You can barely piece the rest of your thought together because of Harry putting his mouth on yours, his tongue entering soon after. 

“Fine, we won't go to bed,” he murmurs, pushing you against the counter. “Here is more than fine.” With that, his strong, pretty hands are lifting up the skirt of your dress and gripping your legs, lifting you slightly to get you to sit on the counter. 

“Harry…” you groan as you watch him kneel down in front of you, pulling your underwear to the side. 

“What, my little wife? Do you want me to stop?” he questions, those brown, puppy dog eyes looking up at you as he begins to plant soft kisses on your the inside of your thighs, getting closer to your core with each one. 

“N-no,” you finally stutter out. “It-its just…oh, my gosh.” You're cut off by your husband's tongue taking you apart in seconds. He pulls away, gently pushing a finger inside you. 

"It's just what, darling? Tell me. Tell your Bing just what it is.” 

You can't seem to formulate words due to the pleasure fogging your brain, so you just shake your head, breath ragged. 

“That's what I thought,” he murmurs, returning his face to in between your legs, throwing your leg over his shoulder. “Now, let me make my wife feel good.” 

You're a mess, moments later, Bing mumbling filthy praise as you writhe in front of him. “Wow…you needed that, huh?” He stands up, wiping his mouth and kissing you, you moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue. 

“Mhm,” you reply, your mouth still on his. “I always need you.” 

“Good,” he grins. He plants a sweet kiss on your nose, winking at you. “We'd better go clean up.” 

---

It's just as Harry's spitting toothpaste into the sink that you hear the doorbell ring. You both look at each other, wincing and waiting for the inevitable screech that strangely, doesn't come. You take a final look at yourself in the bathroom mirror before running to the door, Harry following close behind you, his hands squeezing your butt as you turn away.

“Hey!” you squeal, playfully swatting at him. He chuckles, pulling you towards him again for a quick kiss. 

The doorbell rings again, and Harry goes to open the door. “Here he is!” he shouts, pulling his friend into a hug. “Robbie Rosenthal!”

“Croz, how are ya?” he responds, slapping him on the back. He makes eye contact with you stood behind the pair of them, giving them time to greet one another after so long. 

“Jeez, Croz,” He pulls away, smiling at you. “Wonderful to see ya. And this must be the Mrs Jean Crosby.” 

“Hi, Rosie. A pleasure, finally!” You go to shake his hand, but he pulls you into a huge bear hug. 

“So, so, good to finally meet you.” 

He follows you and Harry into the house, placing his bag by the door. 

“How was your journey, bud?” Harry asks, placing a cold beer in front of him. 

“Ah, not so bad,” he responds, taking a sip. “Jo says she's sorry she couldn't be here.” With that, he glances over at you, and you share a sad glance.

“Oh, my sweet Jo,” you respond wistfully. Jo had been part of the team of ladies keeping you upright in many ways during the time Harry was away. She was always there with a listening ear, a kind heart and a shoulder to cry on when things got especially tough. Because of that, she is now one of your most treasured friends, and holds such a special place in your heart. “I miss her terribly. How is she? Of course, we write weekly but it's not the same as being around her.”

“I know, Jean. She's doing great, beautiful as ever. We've been fixing up a little house to move into after we're married. You guys are gonna come, right?”

“You think we'd miss that, Rose? Come on, man, you know me better than that!” The men laugh, clinking beer bottles as you're pulling vanilla ice cream from the freezer to serve with the pie when a soft cry pours through from the living room into the kitchen. You nod apologetically towards the men and go retrieve the baby.

“Hi, sunshine,” you murmur, picking him up. “That was a good nap, huh? Good boy, I'm sure you feel much better now. Guess who's here?” You lay him down on the changing mat to change his diaper, cooing all the while. “That's right, my boy! Uncle Rosie. Uncle Rosie's here to see you!” 

You feel the presence of someone in the doorway, and look up to see Harry, his arms crossed, smiling at you and the baby. 

“What, darling?” You say, buttoning the baby's romper. 

“That never gets old, sweetheart. You and him, me being here to see it. I love it.” He walks over and takes the baby from you, kissing his chubby cheeks before kissing yours. “I love you, Mrs Crosby.”

“I love you more, Bing.”

Rosie gasps as Croz brings the baby into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up and softening at the same time. He stands up, the chair squeaking on the kitchen floor as he reaches his hands out, holding the baby to his body.

“Hi, buddy!” He chirps, smiling down at him. “How's it goin’? Huh? You running mom and dad ragged? Yeah? That's what I thought, little guy. Good job!” He carries on like this, rambling in a voice that's several octaves higher than you just heard, the baby gurgling in response.

“Oh, you guys,” he says, back to his normal husky tone, his eyes shining. “He's beautiful.” 

---

The rest of the day passes quickly, both men rushing around you and switching the baby between them, so you can sit down and rest. Thankful for the extra pair of hands, you take the opportunity to take a long, hot bath and relax, your Bing coming in for just a moment to sit on the edge of the tub, telling you a story from their time in England that he'd just remembered thanks to Rosie and that he just had to tell you immediately, all while rubbing lavender soap into your legs. 

While you're getting ready for bed, you reread Jo's latest letter, which you plan to reply to in the morning.

Darling Jean,

How are you? Good, I hope. I'm so sorry to read that the little guy isn't sleeping well. I imagine that can be so exhausting.

I'm glad Robbie will be there in a few days. That extra pair of hands around so you can relax will be welcome, I'm sure. I'm just so sorry I cannot be there too, to be with you while the boys share their anecdotes. While our men may have lost so much in the years they were away from us, I'm glad it gave us something: each other. You are one of my dearest friends and I am forever glad and grateful that your Harry and my Robert became friends, thus putting us together. I wouldn't know how to live without you now. 

Back to not being able to join Robbie on this trip: tell him to hurry up and marry me so I'm able to come see you and the baby. Start dropping hints now, lady! I'm dying to see you and my beloved nephew. 

Goodbye for now, my dear. All my love, always.

Your friend,

Jo

You smile, placing the letter back on your nightstand, sniffling a little. She is right; the men losing so much, yet you both gaining this friendship is bittersweet. Her being there for you when Harry came home on leave, your nerves wrecked after not seeing your husband for years. She was one of the first people you told when you found out you were pregnant, both of you weeping with joy and hugging. Wiping your present tears away, you run downstairs to take the baby so that Bing can take the first sleep shift. 

“Harry, darling,” you coo. “You'd better sleep if you want to take Rosie golfing tomorrow morning!”

“Oh, thanks, honey,” he says, clumsily standing from the couch so as not to disturb the dozing baby in his arms. “Here ya go, buddy,” he says, placing the baby in your waiting arms. “Go to mama. Goodnight, my son.” He kisses him on the head, then it's your turn, placing a deep kiss on your mouth. 

“Hold on, you guys,” Rosie starts, placing his whiskey glass on the table in front of him. “You aren't going to bed together?”

“We can't right now, Rosie,” you say, sadly. “Little guy here wakes at all hours, so we take it in turns right now.”

“I'm not having that!” he says, shocked. “Go to bed together, I'm here for a reason. Uncle Rosie and his new best buddy can have a few hours to get to know one another a bit better. You've got jazz, a record player and I've got arms that aren't exhausted to be able to hold him all hours.”

“Are you sure, bud?” Harry says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Yes, Croz. Go curl up with your wife. I'll be here.”

“Thanks, doll,” you say, a grateful smile on your face. “Come wake us if there's any trouble, okay?” You place the dozing baby in his bassinet next to the armchair Rosie is sitting in, and gently pat his shoulder in thanks.

“I wouldn't dream of it. Goodnight, you two!”

---

You and Harry ascend the stairs together, breathing a sigh of grateful relief. Pulling his shirt off, your Bing walks towards you, his hands finding their way up your night dress. “How's about we pick up where we left off earlier?” he winks, his hands getting further up your bare skin.

“Hmm, yes please.”

“Good,” he murmurs, kissing you deeply. “Just be quiet, Mrs Crosby. We don't want the cops called on us.” 

masterlist

part three

[legacyshenanigans]

Alrighty, didn’t throw these in on the others in case people were uncomfy with NSFW (although if it’s Marvolo I don’t see how those can co exist 😅), but here’s my asks on NSFW headcanons/thoughts

And once again thank you my smut queen for taking the time to indulge me 💚💚

Has Marvolo every accidentally gone too far and hurt MC without meaning to? If so how did he react? Especially with caring for her, would he feel guilty or roll off his back?

Thoughts on Marvolo giving a sensual massage as a way to bridge the gap of him not being super romantic since it is sexy but still giving towards MC in his own way? (Maybe not candles but def a really good rub down and maybe some sweet words)

His fav positions?

Ones he hasn’t tried but wants to?

Things he has tried to indulge MC that he liked? Things he tried and didn’t?

Worst place(s) they’ve done it? Places they want to try?

His biggest kink(s) - could also be not explicitly sexual?

Things he has learned about himself while being the MC that surprised him in the bedroom?

Also it’s getting late in my time zone so I’m bout to go horny scrolling so I apologize 🤣

It's also super later where I am too, or early, depends how you look at it 😅 nearly 5am ahahaha. But I saw this ask and thought,

"Oof..I need to do this" 🫦😩🤣

I love these questions you have!! 💚🐍

I will undercut these NSFW answers❤️

1. One time when he was hitting her hard from the back, he pushed down on her back WAY to hard in a primal (not thinking straight) state to make her arch more so he could fuck her deeper, and absolutely blew her back out. She could barely walk the next day. They kinda laughed about it, but he did help her and stuff, and gave her lots of attention for being such a good girl that night and letting him go wild on her.

2. He'd have absolutely no issue giving her a massage if that's what she wanted, but it would end in sex 100%. Yeah, romance is a very strange world for Marvolo, and he does try at times because he knows MC likes it, and he wants to make her happy. He has the capability to be romantic because he can be incredibly charming, and those two things go hand in hand, but he still struggles with what romance is. Marvolos idea of romance is like him NOT spitting on her when they have sex 🤣 He also has no issue now telling MC he loves her and says sweet things to her pretty regularly.

3. Any positions where he can clearly see her face, he wants to SEE how he's making her feel, he wants to SEE it on her face, it's a huge turn on for him, even fucking doggy, he'll be growling at her telling her to look at him over her shoulder at him, he's very big on eye contact during sex.

4. I think its safe to say in his time he's done pretty much any position you can think off 🤣

5. Letting her take control more is something he will indulge in for MC, and he does enjoy it depending on his mood (I really need to do a fic on that haha)

6. Some people could argue the "worst place" they've done it is at the Den in the butchery room, even though MC and him enjoyed it. And I'd say they'd be down for it anywhere, to be honest. 🤣

7. One of his biggest kinks is "dark play." Type stuff, like causing pain, and then she's rewarded for taking it so well, with it getting a little worse each time (again, another fic I REALLY need to do) he also enjoys humiliation, him being the one causing it, obviously. (Ffs..Another one I now suddenly want to fucking do, but him letting MC do it to HIM 😅)

8. I wouldn't say there's much he's learnt about himself bedroom wize since being with MC. He just now has little bit more of an understanding that SOMETIMES sex doesn't HAVE to be rough, like lazy morning sex was something he'd NEVER done before meeting MC, and he rather enjoys that at times, which surprised him.

~

[stick-or-treat]

The new 2024 Exhaustion rules!!

previously Exhaustion had its own table where different stuff would happen at different levels; I believe the 1st level was Disadvantage on all ability checks, 2nd level was that your movement was halved, 3rd was Disadvantage on... attack rolls and saving throws or something idk. it was still cumulative but it was very much a Refer To The Chart rule.

I use Exhaustion a lot in one of my campaigns because my PCs are maniacs who like to stay up late partying and pushing themselves way too far out in the field lmao

it's definitely different but I think I like the new rules? AGAIN, a lot easier to remember, and I always thought it was kind of weird that you could stay up for 48 hours straight and still hit things with a sword with absolutely no penalty.

it also used to be that if your session didn't involve a lot of rolling or was combat-heavy, the first level of exhaustion was pretty negligible. now it's like... if you have to roll any dice anywhere you might regret staying up until 5am drinking instead of getting those 8 hours of sleep. SOLID CONSEQUENCES, okay yeah I approve.

[forgottenarthur]

OOC | Arthur & His Line of Succession

idk what to entitle this but!!! my brain at 5am was like 'here have this' so now you get to hear abt it too lksdjfkljsdfjl

ok so!! arthur's faction, even objectively speaking (like in an au where every single varmont really and truly is the disgusting vile monster that ronan thinks they all are, this is STILL an advantage for arthur), has a v big advantage over the others, and that is @forgottensebastian!! while sebastian just being the amazing person he is, is a total win for arthur, like i said, even if he were actually leck quasar born again (SCREAM), his v existence would still be a huge advantage to the Arthurian faction bc he's a designated and direct heir and historically!!!!! that is a huuuuge asset in getting ppl to fight/vote for you!! so i wanted to sort of explore this a bit!

so, when ur abt to embark on a civil war for 'who should rule us next' ur hoping ur not gonna have to turn around and do it all again once ur chosen leader kicks the bucket, and arthur having a clear, designated heir from the get-go is a a part of that! bc w edmund or guin, say they get crowned etc, well great! but they're just one person right so what happens if/when they die before having kids! ur back to square one -- if guin's crowned, well, whose her heir? edmund? arthur? ur back at it again!

this is (one of) the reasons @forgottengodfrey is so keen to get edmund hitched (also gaining the stafford/astairan alliance etc but yeah), so edmund can start making heirs of his own, pronto!

ironically, its also one of the reasons @forgottenroderick is so reluctant to let his kids marry bc then ppl might start wanting one of his kids to rule more than they want ~him too!!!! its also the reason he was so desperate to have kids in the first place and took three wives to do it </3

but annnnyway, as a result, i do think arthur's sort of...thought abt this a lil bit frankly (he's so much more introspective than i ever thought it throws me every time i swearrrr) now, obv, idk how this will all go down but, if roderick were to die, and arthur to begin his gambit to seize the throne, i think he'd make his line of succession basically the sons of roderick in order of age; the sons of roderick's father in order of age (aka alaric), the sons of roderick's grandfather in order of age (aka bartholomew) and then their male line descendants in order of age (aka eoin). if all these men were to die, then it would follow the same structure but w women so:

arthur

sebastian

edmund

alaric

bartholomew

eoin

guinevere

cassandra

ciara

now, in his ideal world alaric and the other male varmonts would inherit before edmund like so:

arthur

sebastian

alaric

bartholomew

eoin

edmund

guinevere

cassandra

ciara

but he def recognizes that obv edmund has a way better claim to the imperial throne (not necessarily the kingly one of the og country tho depending on how ~those inheritance laws are written, but in that roderick apparently reopened old laws from ther abt multiple wives, im assuming its still true that edmund would have a better claim to ~that throne as well?) than alaric, bartholomew, or eoin so yeah! the top one is what he's currently thinking! HOWEVER i do think the more he talks to @forgottenarias the more he rethinks his position and so i think he may potentially end up considering heirs in order not just male heirs so:

arthur

sebastian

cassandra/edmund

edmund/cassandra

guinevere

alaric

bartholomew

eoin

ciara

now this would actually be a mistake for his faction, really, bc it'd mess up his ability to claim that ~he should be king since guinevere is, in fact, older, so i do think he'd at best do some handwave abt how roderick's male heirs come first bc that was the intention of the founder or whatever, and THEN roderick's female heirs and then everybody else hahaha but i do think he'd still want to be like CASSANDRA OVER EDMUND but yeahhhh idk if he could reasonably pull that off so i do think it'd result in a lot of confusion abt who has precedence between those two were he ever to actually realize his claim (unlikely!!) but yeah!! sldkjfalksdlfjdslkfj

anyway, he might potentially handwave abt his mother's line being the true imperial one (and thus cassandra still having precedence over edmund despite her sex) as marian became ~his mother and thus cassandra having precedence over edmund or smth but idk -- if they're still at war w edmund when this comes down the line he'd def be like 'yeah that's how that's happening' but if somehow arthur's in power and edmund's cool w it or whatever then he'd probs feel edmund would be a better fit for the crown than cassandra tbqh and have him as the third

anyway!! ngl none of this will probably EVER matter bc even if we do kill off roderick and start our war w/o that one big revelation etc, we uhhhh know that lil smth abt arthur that he don't know so yeah!! (and lbr even if he did manage to seize power as soon as he and edmund made peace, amira would just poison him soooo) but anyway here we are i thought of it so i thought id share it hahaha

[bananapapers]

Lover Dearest

Nahoya Kawata x GN Reader

WARNINGS: literally none, very slight angst like very very very slight, fluff, sweetness, like tooth rotting fluff, reader and Nahoya r so in love I'm sick. Nahoya grown is such a sweet boy. Not beta’d we die like men, no physical describers (i think), no pronoun use

Summary: When his sadness hits, what better to do than surprise your loving boyfriend with flowers - which are named after him.

w/c:1k

A/N: Aster flowers are a symbol of love, baby’s breath means everlasting love, and white carnations mean innocence and pure/sweet love :)  (i love flower language)

Its 5am. I need sleep. this is from my last ask :)

Nahoya didn't often do things for himself you realized. Though you did adore the fact that Nahoya despite his abrasive personality he is very much a selfless person, you wished he would just do something for himself for once. 

Which is how you got here. At a flower shop. Your beloved had seemed down the last few weeks, and regardless of your semi-regular reminders that you're there for him as well, he didn't really open up to you. Nothing past a simple “I know precious, but I'm really just fine.” You, of course, understand that there are definitely some things he doesn't like talking about often, like his violent past or the less savory parts of his mind, but you think sometimes he doesn't realize that he isn't alone. 

Browsing through flowers you kept thinking about how these ones needed to be special. Something meaningful. Being versed in the old plant language was useful, but really only when the person receiving the flowers knows what they mean.. And bless your pretty boy's soul, he does not understand it at all. While you could give him a pretty bouquet of aster, baby’s breath, and white carnations, that is not special enough for your liking right now. And only you would understand what the meaning was..

While staring at the roses and tulips, you thought back to when you did a research paper on native plants in Japan. You got a sudden idea and grinned to yourself, thinking about how perfect your newly brewed plan is. All you had to do was talk to the clerk about something very special and then your plan will be in motion.

When you got home, you immediately started setting up your little surprise for ‘Hoya, placing the small pot full of the pretty greenery that you had picked up and then filling up a vase for the smaller bouquet of baby's breath and lavender that you had also gotten. Setting everything up on the counter of your shared apartment kitchen  so when Hoya came home from the ramen shop he would see them immediately. You had also managed to get a bag of his favorite chocolates that you know he's been craving for awhile and set them up in between the pot and the vase. 

Stepping back you looked at your work and nodded in approval. The potted plant had waxy leaves and pretty pale pink flowers that grow in clusters similar to hydrangeas. The flowers were simple but they were shaped like stars, which made you smile and cheekily think ‘cause he’s a Rockstar.’ 

After admiring your surprise you went to go change in your shared bedroom, throwing on one of his old hoodies and a pair of comfortable lounge shorts. Faintly, the sound of a key turning the lock on the front door can be heard, then the door opening, “Precious? I’m home!” your lover's voice calls out. You could hear him pause, then you decide to head out of the bedroom.

The sight you were greeted with was heartwarming. Your 5 '7 beloved was standing in the doorway, a bag of groceries fallen out of his hands as he stared at the flowers and chocolates in front of him. He had small crocodile tears starting to form in his eyes, which made you slightly worry.

“Do you not like them..?”, you asked quietly, inching closer to him.

“You got me flowers…?” His sweet voice croaked out, his breath caught in his throat. He liked it. 

You smiled then nodded, going over to move the bag of groceries onto the other counter, then giving him a reassuring hug, wrapping your arms around his frame and squeezing gently, one hand rubbing his back ever so slightly.  

“Mhm, got them for you baby, thought you deserved something nice. Been working yourself to the bone lately,” you said gently, studying his face for any other sort of reaction. A small smile took over his features and he looked genuinely happy for the first time in weeks. “You got me flowers..” he repeated, more a statement than his previous sentence, simply affirming it in his mind. He wrapped his arms around your frame and laughed softly, burying his nose into the crown of your hair. “You got me flowers!” he said one last time, full of joy and slight laughter, it warmed your belly seeing him this happy.

“Yup!” you giggled out, returning his affection, “and there's something special about these ones,” you said gesturing towards the potted plant. 

“What's special about them, pretty?” he said gently, smiling at you with a loving look lingering in his eyes. You turned and smiled at him, “They’re named after you, Hoya..”

He furrowed his brow and tilted his head at you, “What do you mean they’re named after me baby?” His tone was confused but soft. He always refused to use anything but a kind voice with his pretty baby. You smiled, “This is a Hoya Carnosa, it's a native to japan and its named after you. At Least to me it is, haven't I always told you that you were my pretty flower?” your smile turned teasing then you laughed, “thought they would look nice on the front counter of the shop.. A little plant named after the owner?” you suggested, smiling towards him. 

His face went through a range of emotions, love, joy, then something unreadable to you. He was looking at you like you were his sun, his moon, and all his stars. Staring at you like you were the only thing in existence, “I love you so much, pretty baby..” he said while collecting you into a hug, one of his hands coming up to the back of your hand, caressing gently like you were fragile and he might break you. 

“Truly, this made all the bad stuff go away, please never change or leave me..” he said into your shoulder, his tone was not remorseful but more gently broken. He wasn't upset or anything, just thankful. That was the only way you could describe it, he was thankful he had you.

“Never. I love you too, Hoya.”

“Thank you”

[camillemontespan]

forever and eternity [drake x camille AU] [chapter three: 1928]

Chapter Two 

@karahalloway @twinkleallnight @sophxwithers @katedrakeohd @angelasscribbles tw: there is a mention of a suicide attempt but it is only hinted at, no details. 

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

Drake, Camille and Leo sat down at booth at the back of the bar, a bottle of whisky on the centre of the table and three glasses.

Drake poured each of them a sizeable measure of whisky and, in silence, the three of them quickly drank.

As the amber liquid burned their throats, Leo cleared his and turned to look at Camille.

He could see that Drake was struggling to comprehend seeing his lost love again. He could also see that Camille felt guilty.

So he was going to manage this discussion.

'So, Camille,' Leo began, his green eyes focusing on her. 'You're like us. How long have you known you're immortal?'

Drake poured himself another whisky before topping up Camille and Leo's glasses.

Camille tossed the drink down her throat before answering.

'Since 1700.'

Drake choked on the whisky.

Leo nodded. 'When were you born?'

Camille swallowed. '1640.'

Leo let out a whistle. 'You're a few decades older than me, then,' he said. 'Love a cougar.'

'Leo!' Drake hissed. 'Do you mind not flirting with my ex right in front of me?' 

Camille's face was red from whisky and embarrassment. Leo chuckled and held up his hands. 'Dude, I'm trying to lighten the mood.'

'Well stop it,' Drake muttered. 'You're being an asshole.' 

Leo shrugged then turned his attention back to Camille. 

'How did you find out what you were?'

Camille pressed her lips together as she thought of a way to explain herself. 'I.. I was 60 years old,' she said quietly, 'and I looked in the mirror and could see my 27 year old face looking back at me. I know that sounds ridiculous, surely I should have realised years before that I wasn't aging but my mother looked young too. I assumed it was hereditary, looking youthful when you are not.'

Drake frowned. 'You decided you were immortal just going on that line of thinking?'

Camille sighed. 'It was the 1700s, people believed any old crap without rational thinking.'

Leo let out a laugh. 'True that,' he said. 'At least you were right though.'

Camille fixed her eyes on the table. 'Ten years later, still looking 27.. I was sick of it. I felt like a freak. So I tried… I tried to end it.'

A silence fell over the table. Drake's fists were clenched in his lap. He couldn't bear the idea of Camille trying to hurt herself.

Leo sipped more of his whisky. 'So Drake and I found out we were immortal when we realised we couldn't be killed on the battlefield. You found out, officially, when you tried… okay, so it seems the only way to confirm this thing is to die.'

Camille blinked. 'You don't know much about this either?'

Leo stared at her. 'Fuck no! Camille, we have no idea why we're like this. As far as I know, you're only the second person I've met in my very long life to have this condition.'

Drake looked at Camille. Since sitting down with her, gone was his anger, just.. confusion left in its place. He wanted to ask her why she had left him but he knew he couldn't ask her that in front of Leo. That was a private conversation.

'Since 1928, I've gone through life like a karate kid,' Camille whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.  'Fighting to stay alive but to keep a low profile-’

'Fighting to stay alive?' Leo interrupted.  'Camille, we can't die.'

Drake's mind could only focus on the beginning of her words. 

Since 1928.

That was the year after Drake and Camille had met. 

Camille poured another glass of whisky and downed it. 

'Now that I know that you guys are like me,' she said, her voice fierce, 'you have to know what's out there.'

Drake felt himself tense. 'Camille, what are you talking about?' 

Camille poured them another whisky.

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

Olivia Nevrakis started every morning by waking at 5am. 

She would get up as soon as the alarm rang, throw on workout clothes and head to the gym. On Fridays, she went to a 6am boxing class.  

Afterwards, she would head home to shower, have breakfast and dress for work. 

Her life was one of solitude. She didn't have friends. She didn't really have family. She lived alone. 

But she preferred it that way. 

Her job was one that required strict confidentiality. She worked for a special branch of government and her job title was 'Acquisitions Officer.' 

She had been working in this role for two years and it was clear that Olivia was good at her job.

The way she was as a person made her the ideal candidate for the role. She was cold. Unlikely to form attachments. Willing to get a job done regardless of the cost. Never regretting anything. Believing the job was the most important thing in the world. 

A well adjusted person would say that Olivia Nevrakis had been brainwashed. 

She would call that person weak.

This morning at work was the same as every morning. She and her team of twelve colleagues would pour through the files, searching archives and confidential records. 

When she first started working in this job, she felt like it was a dead end. All the work she did produced no results. She began to feel like she was being duped. That this wasn't a real job. That her superiors were delusional.

She said so herself in a meeting with her manager a year ago, not long after she first started. 

Her mind was changed when he took out a file dated 1928 and proceeded to show her its contents. 

Since that meeting, for the past year, Olivia believed in the company.  

On this particular morning, she woke up feeling ready to take on the day. She went to the gym, came home and had breakfast, dressed in her red power suit paired with black stiletto heels and took a cab to work. 

Sitting down at her desk, she trawled through the usual database, searching and comparing, her eyes narrowed for any detail that could show her something new. 

Her eyes scanned the screen, reading through every possible name, trying to find a name and picture match. ‘Where are you, you freak bitch?’ she muttered. 

All she had was the file dated 1928. Inside it were black and white photos, all of the same person, all taken through different years. That would have been fine, normal in fact, if it weren’t for the fact that these photos were taken from 1840 onwards. All of the same person.  

A well adjusted person would decide it was simply strong genetics. 

Olivia and her superiors would say that that person wasn’t open minded enough. 

Reading through the records, they had found her at the beginning of 1928. They had been working on this case for only six months when they found out where she was. But she had escaped and ever since then, Olivia’s predecessors had been trying to find her all over again. 

No more photographs. 

Camille Montespan was hiding. And Olivia was going to find her. 

[i-am-beckyu]

Fake Fic titles:

-Search History: How to Get a Demon Out of My Garage, Demon in Garage has Started Crying and Sizzling is Bad?, How to Stop Demons from Crying, How to Unsummon Demon From Garage

-Apocalypse Eyes

-No Friends? Build Your Own

-House Arrest

-Piano Man

Search History: How to Get a Demon Out of My Garage, Demon in Garage has Started Crying and Sizzling is Bad?, How to Stop Demons from Crying, How to Unsummon Demon From Garage

(I love this title)

Why isn't the internet helping him?! It was a joke! A stupid youtube video idea! HOW IS THERE A FLIPPEN DEMON IN HIS GARAGE?!! AND IT WON'T STOP CRYING?? THE WEIRD TINY YELLOW AND BLACK DEMON IS CRYING IN RANBOO'S GARAGE. AND SOEMTHING IS DEFINATELY BURNING? WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON?!?!?!

or Tubbo a tiny bee hybrid thought it would be funny to play a prank on the human Ranboo he secretly lives with but bent his wing while chasing them around the garage and now it hurts.

this would just be a lot of screaming in fic form I recon

Apocalypse eyes

mmmm no idea's for this one apart from Giant XD with many many many eyes. that's all I got lol

No Friends? Build Your Own

Tubbo has always liked to build things. Elaborate machines, fixing trinkets, a very much not model bomb that was totally not a police violation.... YEP! Loves to tinker.

But he's lonely

So what do you do when you know how to build things? Build your own friend!!! He's been working on getting the robot to move and walk about with a little remote control, next comes artificial intelligence. *looks at clock. It's 5am* Maybe in the morning... *wakes up and walks into work shop* "Hello new friend. How are you today?" "I'm well Tubbo, how are you?"

*Tubbo staring in shock.* "WTF?!?!?"

or Tubbo is lonely human. Tommy is lonely tiny who decides a giant robot is the perfect way to make a new friend.

SOMEONE WANNA STEAL THIS? TAG ME TAG ME TAG ME!!!

House Arrest

Philza is under house arrest. It's boring. No one to talk to, nothing to do, just him and the occasional 'visit'. At least the crows would come by with gifts. Rings, gold nuggets, the occasional emerald, a tiny diamond man, feathers for quills, bits of iron... wait. go back

A tiny diamond man?

I thought it would be funny to just throw Smcykeppy in there lol

Piano Man

A tiny tommy lives in Wilbur's walls and constantly gets to hear the musician play. He adores them. For Tommy, its like he's living at a free concert where he gets to hear a songs progression from start to finish.

So to hear his idol struggling over one of his songs just won't do. He should record something to cheer them up!

So with all his might, he jumps across the piano (the only instrument he can semi play at his size) and plays a few miscellaneous notes which he manages to record.

When Wilbur comes back, he has no idea why there's this random piano recording on his computer but he swears he here's some very quiet muffled slurs in amongst the cuts. It's quite amusing. But the recording itself would work really good on this bit of the song here...

(I have so many more ideas for this one but I'm stopping here)

Anon these were fabulous. I loved these!! No friends, Build your own and Piano Man are definitely two fun aus I kinda wanna dive in and write. Maybe I will, maybe I won't who knows!

[baasphemous]

Gender rambling between 4-5am? Not sure who even keeps up here as sporadic as i post, but!

Gender is so weird. I have, for most of my life, never really considered my appearance. It was something that i “fought” for but never really played with? I’d toss on a tshirt, some cargo somethings, sneakers, and call it a day because for me, it was the least sensory hell and something that didnt make me dysphoric that apparently set the tone of being a trans man. I cut my hair into a rooster comb and for the most part that was my set hairstyle. I never really saw it as gendered and i liked it i guess? I liked my hair out of everything but even still sometimes sticking it up felt like a chore or could be a sensory challenge. I have been out of the house for half my life now, and yet i feel like i never got much of that teenage exploration most my peers got. Its weird to be exploring it in your thirties but here i am. I spent my early twenties as a trans man, and only managed to disown it in my late twenties during pride month when i went back to test driving they after realizing being a man gave me dysphoria too.

I have never particularly felt like a man nor a woman, but something in between. Both, sometimes neither. These days i feel like i fluctuate and so i have been cozying down in the ambiguity, thinking i might be some kind of fluid but my queer ass really feels at home with terms like faggot butch, nonbinary, gender noncompliant, transgender, or dyke. I like the idea of any pronouns but sometimes i feel sad people automatically clock me as a he/him 95% of the time because i have facial hair. They is fine for me, she is interesting, and viewing myself through she has been a wild ride in terms of things coming full circle again to my agab, in some respects. I dont hate it when i view myself as masculine like a dyke.

It’s weird because i dont want to use micro labels and yet regardless of acceptability of said labels (people dont like the reclaiming of slurs), i find myself fearfully wading through them, scared of the judgement and scared of folks accusing me of some lack of authenticity. Scared that folks will slap a stamp on my head (such as trans man) and look no further. And i suppose thats inevitable in some respects because i often just say im queer and leave it at that. Sometimes queer is all i need. People will make their assumptions and wont always understand and thats okay. The people who matter will get it.

I shaved my hair off wednesday afternoon and as much of a siren call as it was, i was scared it was going to look bad! I cant lie, though, there was something sweet and delightful about having my owner run her hand over my freshly cut head and tell me i really was her bully now after she helped shear it all off. I took some weird relief in the act and something was nice about seeing myself reflected in the mirror with a new sense of self. It was like the feeling of buying a new canvas to paint on or starting over. It kind of kickstarted me into engaging in how i look again instead of just idly accepting not looking at it in the day to day because it didnt really feel important.

Last years yule made me think about clothing, but i had kind of picked it up and put it down. I feel like this “drastic” hair cut has been a relief for not having to manage hair and how sensory overwhelming it can be, but also for my gender expression. I have thought about makeup since. I have enjoyed wearing dangly earrings with a bald head. I have been thinking about how i could feasibly look cute if i just picked up xyz or did something scary and alluring. And who knows, it might change? I might grow it back out to a rooster comb again. But for now i am enjoying the ride, i am enjoying feeling engaged with myself because i deserve more than just throwing on essentials and living my day without considering myself. It is nice feeling like i have some kind of autonomy over my appearance for a change instead of settling into something “acceptable” or just cruising along without much thought. I hope i can pull my partners along because they deserve that feeling too.

Its times like these where i wonder if this feeling of autonomy is just something people feel by default or if they work more or less to get to this point? I dunno, but i am happy to have gotten here.

[romanticfistfightz]

a list of everything that went wrong today bc if i dont complain and joke about it ill think too much . under read more cuz its 20 points.

my mother got a speeding ticket bc she was 10km/h over . on an empty road at 5am but it wasnt cops ther ebut the one that flashes its not happened to me exactly but it went wrong

had to pay 260pln at the airport cuz the fucking ryanair app didnt work properly and didnt give me my boarding pass when i definitely clicked download and then gave me an "unknown error"

already stressed went to the gate . looked at my boarding pass . only one bag. fuck

paid anothe 200 to be able to take my luggage with me already sweating and shaking (at least the vodka in dutyfree was on sale)

the dude taking my payment told me to take out electronics and meds cuz "these bags get lost sometimes" causing me to die instantly

i gave my bag to a dude next to my plane so he can put it inside the plane with other checked in bags . which should make me more normal cuz like i gave it to him and saw him walk to put it in

didnt help. i was already panicking. what if he took it to a different plane (there were no other planes) . what if he took it for himself and hid it (its bright fucking yellow someone would see it) . what if the plane runs it over (????)

had my adhd toy and was very nervously playing with it and sweating and the lady sitting next to me asked if everythings okay (probably assuming im scared of flying/planes/heights) . so that was nice of her i told her im having an awful day but thanks for asking

the emergency instructions that they give every time made me worse. the plane shook when flying up (normal) and i was sure its crashing . the force of flying up felt different i was sure the engines stopped and died

realized i need to throw up NOW so i went to the bathroom and threw up a bit. never threw up thousands of meters into the air

didnt wanna flush it cuz what if it sucks out too much and sucks out my bag and it falls out

the rest of the flight was fine i chilled out n saw mt etna which is fun i always wanted to see a volcano

landed. started freaking out a bit cuz my bag wasnt coming out for a long time (normal time) and what if they lost it the numbes were slightly different what if somone already took it- oh nvm here it is

cool going for the bus oh wait i need to have coins to pay for the ticket i just bought a carbs free(?) beer for 1.90eur at the airport

wanted to smoke so i wanted to grab my cigarettes from my backpack and realized half of my shampoo spilled out for some fucking reason and the ziplock wasnt closed fully so my backpack (with my laptop charger cables and most important handbound physical copy of unholyverse which was a gift from my bf) was in shampoo and i had no tissues

okay crisis averted it wasnt as bad as i thought. oh shit im almost late for my bus the next ones in 1.5h

managed to get in . and it even had ac. doesnt matter the zip on my backpack broke but after a 10min fight i fixed it

my phones at 7% i need to climb uphill to get to my hotel . the checkins not until 3pm (it was 11.30 at the time its 12.30 now)

okay fine i have an adapter ill charge my phone a bit and go for a walk . yeah sure lmao the adapter doesnt work apparently so im charging my phone from my laptop

well at least theres two swimming pools so ill go swim for the first time in 8yrs.

[universeofmuses]

//not that I’m questioning who I am or what I am, because I know I am a good man. But honestly as the days keep coming and I see more and more grey in my hair and beard, I see myself more like old man Kratos from God of War Ragnarok. The man that lives with a past that haunts him, the questions of if he is a man or a monster, if he is deserving of a second chance in his life, questioning things inside himself because of what he became.

In some ways I see myself as old Ezio (and that’s because of the fact that I’m binging the assassins creed games and I’m on revelations now.), a man that is reflective on his past, looking at my memories through the lens of hindsight. Feeling like a man that is out of time. It’s funny, way back when being 35 you were an old man.

I guess tonight I am a bit reflective, a bit thoughtful on myself and my life. Which is odd given how tonight started with me in a place of anger and rage. But after that passed I started to think about myself and my past, and now thinking to my last relationship (not that I would ever take that person back). I guess just watching Hamilton has me wondering (and not that I’m throwing shade on anyone here or women in general) if there are good women out there, women that would be good to their spouse, that want to get married and have a family. That will be the good partner that you see in movies with the loyal and strong wife, I am looking for that, for a partner that will be good for me. Though as I get older I am starting to see that maybe that’s not in the cards for me.

It’s funny, after I realized that attraction makes a big deal to a person, the personality can be secondary in a person’s mind, its taken the edge off of what I was feeling last year. Honestly its been a back burner deal because I know that its nothing against me as a person, its just I am heavy and I know its a bit of a turn off, and working on that aspect of me has been the biggest struggle of my life. Still even though its on the back burner I still feel like its on the back burner and the dreams I once held in the forefront of my mind and goal in my life I think is now as far from me as the moon.

Last month I stood godfather for my best friend’s son, his first, and as honored as I was about the it. I was still thinking about how I wished I could have him stand the same for my son or daughter, but I think it just kinda cemented for me that I feel like that dream, that door is firmly closed with no hope of opening it. While this thought isn’t keeping me bed ridden as it did before, it still stings, but that pain instead of depression is being replaced with bitterness and thinking of ‘I don’t need anyone’. Time will tell what will become of me and my family and my family name. I say that because in my family I am the only one that can carry my last name, I know its an antiquated way of thinking, but its still something I think of me, with me my sir name, my family line dies with me. A very depressing thought, especially in a time when people don’t want to invest any time in anyone, in a time when its so hard to make a good impression despite how hard you work to put your best foot forward.

I don’t know if anyone reads my oocs or if they care enough to read them when I go on long tangents like these, but honestly if life goes the way I see it going. Then I just see that I just die and everything I worked so hard and struggled to have and keep just get auctioned off to the highest bidder, that all of my dreams and hopes and ideals just simply die with me. That my time on this earth amounts to nothing as there will be no one to mourn me, no one to miss me as I am. The only hope I have in that is in my godson, provided that I make enough of an impact on his life that he cares about my passing.

I do apologize for the possibly depressing line of thought tonight/morning (its 5am for me), but these are the topics on my mind after work and the tribulations I’ve been going through there. As silly as it sounds part of me wonders if perhaps my last relationship is something I deserved even if its something I didn’t need right now the way Batman was the hero that Gotham deserved but not the one it needed.

I know I touched on the tribulations on work for me, I know my parents expect so much more drive for me to what I feel like they want me to go conquer the world, but to me where I am, I am comfortable, I just want to keep my house and my life as I feel its not so bad, but they take it as that I’m on the sidelines of life. I’ve seen through my father what this world can do and how it can be, and my only concern is just to carve a little a section of the world out for myself where I can be comfortable and be something close to happy. While I know that what I want to be absolutely happy may not be in the cards for me, what I can settle with I have for now. But seems to not be enough for my parents, though it just seems like all I do from Monday through Friday is just suffer and fear and live in a place of misery and fatigue. I would be lying if I said I didn’t once think what it would mean to end that suffering, but that would mean leaving people that are in my life at the moment.

Along the veins of my parents, I have to say that I am abjectly terrified of what will happen to me after they pass. Honestly I don’t go anywhere without them, they have always been my deepest confidants, the ones that I seek for their opinion, the ones that I seek for any sort of wisdom, the ones that I vent to. They have been everything to me these last few years, I have no one else in my life besides them. After they go, I will be completely alone and adrift in this world, I might as well be marooned on a deserted island when they pass. Of course I could never tell them any of this as I wouldn’t want them to feel any sort of regret in their life and in raising me. Yes I know I’m a smart man and I may be ok but I know I still struggle for the rest of my life without them.

The future abjectly terrifies me, no horror movie plot, monster, idea could scare me as much as what the promise of what tomorrow could bring me. The only thing I wish I could do so desperately is keep the status quo what it is, but every day I see that the status quo is desperate to change, that it will change despite what I want. Day after day I see something that makes me nostalgic for an easier time, even if that easier time was the year prior. I am desperate to capture that and hold on to it but while I am trying to capture it something else slips through my fingers. What do I do? What do I say?

At only 35 I know I am years away from thinking about these things, but I remember so many different times when my father leaned on my mother and vice Vera’s, and I have no one really. After my parents pass I will be utterly alone, the real driving force of my fears and anxiety. Though again I wouldn’t tell them that because I wouldn’t want them to think or feel like this is their fault.

Perhaps this is why I’m always so fatigued, so worried about what’s coming next. Honestly I think that’s why I’m so involved in all of my vices, video games, movies, beer, my fetish, because for a few minutes I feel happy and forget about my worries, but the unfortunate thing is that as soon as I come back from my vices my problems are always there waiting for me. I don’t know what I can do at this point. I am scared.

Perhaps I should write these sorts of thoughts down in my journal and perhaps that will come soon enough, but at least I just feel the need to write this down, to get these thoughts off my chest, to record these thoughts some where. Though I am not sure why I feel this need to write these things down because I know like so many other people, history will forget me, forget my name, my dreams and hopes and tribulations. I wonder what if anyone will think of me and how I lived my life, will I be remembered as a coward or brave or perhaps just someone who didn’t know how to live the way everyone does day in and day out.

I am drunk, I do not know quite everything I am saying, perhaps that is why it feels like to me that my thoughts are weaving in and out of topics. Perhaps I just need to get some sleep to organize my thoughts. I felt like I had a good thread of thought and behavior as this year started as I set on being better, being a better man. But this issue at work seems to have revered me to the unhealthy behaviors that I was trying to leave behind in the first place, is this who I am?

I want to be better, I want to be different, maybe this is who I am. Broken trying to put the pieces back together with no hope of putting something back together. At what point do you stop being a victim of circumstance and just make excuses, is it excuses now? Am I too far broken that no one wants to invest in me? I only want quite in my life is it so wrong it want some quiet?

It’s late and I am drunk. Maybe I do not know what I say, but this what’s behind the curtain, this is what is behind the stories and replies. A man, a vulnerable man filled with regret and fear.

[weirdfishy]

“love you!” i’ll text, couched between platitudes,

bolstered by the days past, the midnight oil, the distance.

i do, really;

but it’s gonna take more than a stray thought to make up for the mold set into the couch’s frame, more than my ache for familiarity to make me smile when you think of me,

more than the picture of us when i was two, propped on elbows side-by-side—i’m mimicking you, hands folded, wearing your hat, two, four, six teeth on display.

do you miss me?

i've a full set of teeth now, hands that've done so much, hat fitted to my head, so much life lived that it’s gonna take more.

is it really true, when you say you do?

we took pictures together two months ago,

why send a picture from when i was two?

—

but i’ll mean it,

the cushions on the couch, the nice throw i’ll hang over the back—

after you’ve sent that text when i’m awake at 5am,

(the night’s quiet is ingrained in my notions of peace; the lights’re on now, until 4am, and the footsteps walking by my door don’t race my heart beat)

7am as you’ve gotten home from work,

saying you miss me and that you hope i’m doing good.

(this could’ve been an email, schedule-sent from the cool green phone mom had, that slid to reveal a keyboard of tiny buttons i loved to play with;

you don’t ask how i’m doing, just what and when and if i’ve done x, crossing your fingers in hopes that im “good”.

i don’t answer questions im not asked, don’t forgive things i was never apologized to for.)

i swear, i’ll mean the fucking hell out of it,

even though it took me two days to respond,

two seconds to start crying after i saw that picture,

because all i remember is two years ago—

hiding under that threadbare throw yet suffocating in its humidity, feeling myself dry out as i was left to frost, and peeling myself from the underside of your roof.

so it’ll be two days before i respond, two weeks until i call you, two more months before you expect me to visit,

and two decades before my life has grown big enough for this pain to feel small,

before i stop asking if that me,

when i was two—

is who you prefer,

to me,

today.

—

i do, really, but the mold isn't so easily rid of.

~

to: 2-day’s too much

[suchsaccharine]

5.10.23

tossed it all again. two days ago. day 2 clean.

late for work yesterday. genuinely accidentally set my quiet 5am alarm instead of regular alarm sound. (cant remember wy i originally did this) anyway...i am scared to weigh myself because i know that no matte4r what it says, im not anywhere near those numbers giving me pleasure. rather just sort of wait til im thin again. whats the point of keeping track obsessively again? idk i just really really hate this. about this time 3 years ago i won $60 at work for winning a weight loss challenge. i think i lost like 30 lbs in like 3 months? gosh dude ....ugh.

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im making chicken nuggets for breakfast because i feel like if i dont eat something that i will become obsessed with eating everything. i should maybe throw some cabbage in there too. oh yeah! i got my physical trainer cert lmfao isnt that weird?

yesterday was kids last event of season and s.o was too busy with things under their control to come. so were at a point of contension with that. but i dont wish to continue to argue with them because they only spew venom. they don’t converse.

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i don’t think i ever want to get married. although my whole life i have chased the comfort and contentedness that i thought babies and union would bring, i have only found in myself very recently. i like being alone. i like reading books and watching riveting teen drama series and not cleaning my house when i dont feel like it. i like eating according to my personal diet and not spending money on kitchen full of groceries to make for someone else to eat and not for me to enjoy. although i do truly love cooking for people, thats sort of compromise i make for not being able to eat the same food. i was so torn up and su!ci/2l when i found out i would have to get ivf to have any more kids but maybe the ed did this to me and its a protective way of keeping me from overwhelming my body and mind like that/this again.

i ate my 6 chicken nuggets for breakfast. (im at work now. my lady here is taking a midmorning nap it seems so im just typing on this dying computer. whenever i get my charger out i will switch over to my nurtition book because thats what im really interested in. i think the phsy. training is good on top of nutrition but yeah i think the latter will be my specialty just bc it always has been.

[defrogatory]

sasuke murter monday