#you can tell i was desperate to write honestly. i hate writing on a phone but it was my only option while i was away

[disneyprincemuke]

midnights * mv1

since your breakup, max hadn’t thought of you. until he stumbled home by himself in the middle of the night.

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: honestly just heartbreak all around

notes: i started writing this when i found out my ex-boyfriend was dating someone new, and now here i am 💀 and i fear i am on my phone once more; i will credit the gif in the morning when i get to school

(next)

the lock clicks as max turns his key, the sound echoing in the eerily empty hallway behind him. he turns the knob and was greeted by his empty apartment.

max hasn’t been home in almost 2 weeks. the races and his media commitments, topped by other projects just made it so rare to find the time to come home. but that’s not the only reason he’s avoiding the confinements of these four walls.

he flips the switch in the entryway, slipping his shoes off. immediately, he notices the vast difference in the way his apartment looks — how strangely lifeless it feels.

he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is and it takes him a second to realise.

you’d emptied his apartment of your belongings.

the breakup happened in the 2 weeks he was away from home. it actually took place a night before his race. he’d grown tired of it too, the neverending misunderstandings and the fights.

so he let you walk away; you hopped on a flight back home.

he hasn’t exactly had the time to think about you since then. you’d only texted him once: two days ago to tell him that victoria will be the one with the cats until he comes back. he’d only replied with a simple ‘okay, thank you’.

he didn’t really know what to say either. he stared at your text message for 5 minutes before daniel called him over to start filming a promotional shoot. that was all he could come up with.

max walks further into the apartment you’d once shared. his eyes are darting all over the place, taking mental notes of spots that look different from the way he had left it.

the framed picture of you with the cats is gone, your magazines on the coffee table, the bowl of your collection of scrunchies as a ‘conversation-starter’ centrepiece — it’s all gone.

his apartment didn’t even feel like home. all of the things that made it feel like home just isn’t in here anymore.

max turns his body, taking a glance at the entryway. even your house slippers aren’t where they usually are. it’s as if you were never even here.

he takes a walk further in, glancing at the sofa. it seems so lifeless now without the teddy bear you brought in, and the blanket that you insisted was only for the living room.

he admits he misses the teddy bear. though, he was opposed to the idea at first, claiming that it’s taking up precious space that you could both be maximising together. it proved a lot more useful when he found himself hugging it when he’s on the sofa watching a show with you.

the remotes for all the appliances are no longer scattered over the furniture mysteriously. they are all lined up neatly on the edge of the coffee table, grouped accordingly. you hated arranging the console remotes for the simple fact that you were too lazy to reach forward an inch to start playing.

and it finally hits him, that in the moment of pride, and simply protecting his peace at the moment, he has now lost you.

for good, it seems.

max drops himself on the couch. he’s still looking around, desperately wishing that this was some cruel dream he’s in. he will wake up with you by his side, your hair in his face with his arm draped lazily around your body. he will wake up and you are still his, and he is yours.

he can only sigh. audbily, at the predicament he has found himself in. at the time, it didn’t occur to him to fight for you; to ask you to stay. he didn’t have it in him to ask you to find reason within yourself to change your mind.

then he hears a soft meow, followed by sounds of pitter patter against the floor of the apartment. before he knew it, the couch dips ever so slightly and then there’s jimmy climbing onto his lap to greet him.

then he hears actual footsteps, slippers dragging against the floor. he turns his head slightly, his one hand patting the feline’s head, and meets victoria’s eyes.

“max?”

“victoria.”

a set of lights by the windows are turned on, granting him a look at his younger sister. she’s standing by the door of the guest bedroom with a jacket hanging loosely around her shoulders.

she has a frown on her face, and a look that screamed she didn’t know what to say to him.

and then his heart breaks. instead of walking through those apartment doors hand in hand with you, giggling from the high you’d get from the bar in his private jet, he is sitting her all by himself. met by his younger sister, who would be gone by morning to go back to her family.

max can only smile sadly at her. he shrugs. “we broke up.”

“i know,” she answers softly, nodding understandingly. she approaches him cautiously with her arms slightly held up. “i’m sorry.”

“me too.”

max scrambles from his position and gladly takes in the hug that she’s offered him. he suddenly feels so small, his heart aching in his chest and his throat closing up. he feels the tears in his eyes as he hugs his younger sister slightly tighter.

she rubs her back up and down, hugging him even tighter when she feels his chest stagger slightly. now he’s sniffling and hands are moving up to his face to wipe the tears falling from his eyes.

“give it time,” victoria whispers, swaying slightly in an attempt to comfort the driver. “i promise everything will fall back into place. slowly, but surely.”

max sighs deeply. “i don’t know why i didn’t stop her from walking away.”

she pulls away from the hug, then tugs his hands towards the couch when he chases her embrace. she leans back, pulling max in for a tighter — and slightly more comfortable — hug.

“i know it sucks now,” she rests her cheek on the top of his head, squeezing his shoulder empathetically. “but let things sort itself out. it will be okay.”

there, in his sister’s arms, he cried for the first time since your breakup. he had been so busy that he hadn’t been able to process the whole situation at all.

the way you had shot daggers at him through your eyes that night, how he snapped at you when he noticed and how the fight had erupted from something barely of significance.

it was just over a cup of coffee — how you had made it with 2 sugars instead of 3.

from there, the topics of contention had evolved into something bigger. in the haze of both of your anger, past arguments were brought up and new ones were created just in that night.

then both of you grew tired. you ended up next to him on the couch of his driver’s room in silence. and you said, “i can’t do this anymore, max.”

and he had said to you, “i’m tired.”

but what he should’ve said was: “i’m sure we can find a way through this.”

but that’s not what he said to you. he stayed silent when you brought it up: “i think we need to break up.”

frankly, he didn’t really know what to say. at first, he was dumbfounded at what you said. never did he think, that when you first start dating, that a breakup would ever present itself.

max told himself, about 4 months into the relationship that there’s absolutely no way he’d end up with anybody else except you.

now, it seems he’s going to have to go through all of this by himself. start the whole thing all over again, unless something changes.

[vitalverstappen]

How Do I Do This? - D. Ricciardo

summary: after a public divorce with your ex-husband (not danny), you found yourself learning to try again

pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x famous!reader

warnings: mentions of divorce, drinking, swearing

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

The divorce was messy. There were disputes over literally everything: who got what, how much money both of you got, who kept the dog. And it didn’t help that the media got a whiff of what was happening. Your failing marriage was plastered on every single outlet. 

It was for the best that you hid away from the public for a while. The pieces of you had shattered on the floor, and you needed the time to put yourself back together. 

A few months later, you slowly began putting yourself back in the public eye. Small trips to the coffee shop, out to lunch with some friends, or a smaller awards show. 

During this outing, you found yourself out to lunch with your childhood best friend, Kelly. She had been there through the thick and thin of your marriage, and the resulting divorce. There was nothing about your life that she didn’t know. 

She knew so well that she could tell you were healed, and truth be told, you were. So it was no surprise when a mischievous grin formed on her face. 

“What’s that look for?” You asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be

“Soooo” Kelly started “There’s this guy I know. A good friend of mine.”

“Wow, you have friends other than me. I’m hurt” You joked as you took a sip of your drink. It was obvious what she was hinting at. 

“Yeah, believe it or not” She laughed “But I think they’re your type y/n. His name is Daniel.” 

Kelly flipped her phone around to show you a picture of the man. Dark curly hair, brown eyes, and a charming smile. As much as you hated to admit it, he was your type. 

Leaning back in your chair, you crossed your arms. It had been years since you dated. And honestly, it terrified you having to have a conversation about someone’s favorite color again. It terrified you to have articles written about you again. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready.” You admitted “I can’t even remember what it’s like going on a first date. My last one was back when I was 22.” 

“Oh come on, y/n. It doesn’t have to be anything serious. Just one date to test the waters. Get yourself back out there.” Kelly explained, “It can be in secret so the tabloids don’t write anything.” 

She was right. The date didn’t have to go anywhere. You could meet the guy, say you weren’t feeling it, and leave it at that. No attachments, no tabloids. 

“Fine,” You sighed, defeated. “Send the guy my number. I am not making the first move.”

You had honestly forgotten about the conversation with your friend. Days had passed and you hadn’t gotten a text from a new number. He probably didn’t want to text you. Or your agent had seen the text and thought it was spam. 

That is until one fateful night, your phone buzzed. 

Unknown: Hey y/n it’s Daniel. Kelly gave me your number

Amused, you picked up your phone. It took him long enough to get the confidence to text you.

You: Hey Daniel. I was starting to think Kelly forgot to lol

Only a few moments passed before your phone buzzed again. Another text from Daniel. 

Daniel: Lol that’s pretty much what happened. How’s your night going?

The two of you engaged in a bit of small talk over text. It was only a matter of time before he pulled the trigger on asking you out. 

Daniel: So I was wondering, are you free Saturday? I know a spot we could go - away from everything. 

Your fingers danced around your keyboard until you finally found a reply. 

You: Yeah I am! 

After rereading the text, you quickly deleted your response. It was just a little too desperate. 

You: Yup, I think so 

Again, you found yourself deleting the message. This time, too nonchalant. At least twenty different replies had to have been typed out before you finally gave up and responded with something simple and straight to the point. 

You: Yes

Immediately, you put your phone down, needing to connect back to your world. It was hard to fathom that you were back in the dating scene. Never did you think you would be back starting at square one. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone buzzing once again. 

Daniel: Great! I’ll pick you up at 7

And that’s how you found yourself panicking in your room Saturday evening. An excitement rushed through you that you hadn’t felt in years. It was like your teenage self was coming back to life. You and Daniel had texted off and on leading up, but today was the big day. 

Hours were spent digging through your extensive closet. Nothing that you had picked out seemed to be just right. Eventually, you landed on a little black dress that you hadn’t worn in years. 

Panic flooded your thoughts the entire time you got ready. What if you said something stupid? What if he brought up your divorce? What if it actually goes well?

Your thoughts were cut short when you read the clock: 6:52pm. Eight minutes left. 

You did the only thing you knew would calm your senses. Phone in hand, you called Kelly. One ring was all it took before her face showed up on your screen.

“Hey girl! You look hot!” She said as she picked up. 

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up” You admitted “I don’t know if I can do this” 

“Y/n, yes you can. It’s just a few hours of your life. Daniel’s a sweet guy-”

“Would it be wrong if I took a shot?” You blurted out, eyes on the bottle of vodka that stood on your kitchen counter. 

Through the phone, Kelly stifled a laugh. “I don’t think you need to, Danny’s an easy guy to talk to. But if you think it’ll help, be my guest.” 

Without a second thought, you twisted the cap off of the bottle and took a swig. The liquor burned your throat as you drank, but it was the reality check you needed. You were human, he was human. You’re going to be fine. 

“Better?” Kelly asked as you gagged 

Once you collected yourself, you said, “Better. I gotta go Kels. He should be picking me up any second.” As if on cue, you heard your doorbell ring. “Coming!” 

After one last quick look in the mirror, you found yourself at your door. Daniel was on the other side. This was it. One last inhale, then you opened the door. 

“Hey” Was all you were able to get out. Kelly had shown you photos of Daniel, but none of those could compare to how he looked standing in front of you. 

“Hi” He replied in the same breathy tone you had used only moments prior. A smile spread across his face. “You look amazing”

“So do you” 

Daniel reached out his hand, “M’lady, shall we?” 

Your lips parted into a smile as well as you laced your fingers into his, “We shall”

[sapphossparenoterbook]

Hiiii! You said you're writing for AAA, so like a moth drawn to the light I came. 😆 Can you write Lilia x Reader? Reader being the vampire Carmila who inspired the book of the same name and even the Dracula book. 🥰

Crimson Secrets

Lilia Calderu x Vampire!Reader

(This book looks so so cool, I am definitely putting it onto my reading list!)

You’d done this thousands of times before… it was getting old, honestly, but alas, the appeal of sinking your teeth into young maiden’s necks won’t ever be truly boring. It’s just the process leading up to it that makes you suffer with bouts of ennui. 

Walking down a dirt track, you feel your body weaken. You hadn’t drank any human blood in around a week, and the rodents and livestock you find while stumbling along the Romanian country roads. 

Hopefully, no one here has heard the stories of the vampire in Austria that claimed to be in a carriage accident, mainly because you’re about to try that main trick again. One would say that the repetitiveness of your manipulation schemes was getting dangerous, but a vampire lacking their horde often gets desperate to survive. It’s easier to manipulate rather than overpower when you’re alone. 

A bolt of lightning in the distance illuminates the skyline ahead for a few seconds, making the dark bricks of a large looming tower visible to the eye. A tower that high means a castle, and a castle means food, company, and a good night's rest. Annoyingly, the lightning was a late warning for buckets and buckets of rain, but at least now you know where your next meal is. 

It doesn’t take you long to arrive at the castle, your metamorphosis into a bat proving useful once again. Except for the occasional rain drop hitting your wing too hard and knocking you off of your course and into the mud. 

Adds to the appeal of damsel in distress when you knock at the large front door, and a servant–or a butler?-answers the phone and stares at you with an indignant look on his face. Poor guy looked like he was fast asleep right before you knocked, but then again, he wouldn’t have answered as fast as he did if he was asleep…

“Hello… Could I… come in, only until morning–please sir, I promise not to bother anyone–” You say, hoping the damsel in distress act works just as well as it always does. 

“Why are you this far from the village at this hour? These roads are dangerous. Ridiculous girl.” The server-or-maybe-a-butler tells you, god, I hate when they’re grumpy. 

“I apologise, sir, I think there has been a misunderstanding… I was travelling, and I guess the horse was stressed? The thunder struck and he just– collapsed!” You say, feeling tears well up in your eyes before spilling down your face. 

Who was it that taught you how to do this? Irrelevant now, really… they’ve probably burned alive or choked on garlic for all I know…

The butler hands you his handkerchief and you wipe your eyes, pretending not to notice his grimace as the splashes of mud on your face smudge into the white fabric. Yeah, that stain isn’t coming out… 

Just then, a young woman and her mother walk out into the hall, watching as you cry and then rushing forwards to let you in. These are definitely the ladies of the house. 

The woman is dressed in a nightgown, with her grey hair tied into a bun. Her tense pursed lip slightly relaxes as she frets over you. 

Meanwhile the younger woman is still dressed in her full outfit. A large, orange dress, ordained with yellow embroidery, and her brunette hair in a plaited bun, similar to her mothers but with much more time put into it.And her smell–oh god, her smell… It's like rose petals and blood, gorgeous. The sound of her heart beat reaches your ears, and you can’t stop yourself from shivering as she grabs at your arm. 

“Oh, god–you’re shivering, mamma, she’s shivering! Come in, come on… come to the fire…” She says, and tightens her grip on your arm to drag you into the lounge of the great big castle. 

You’re here for days, then weeks… the girl, Lilia Calderu, has bonded to you very quickly. So much that they moved you from the empty maids bedroom next to the kitchen into the grand guest room next to hers. Which makes it much easier for you to slip into her room at night and bite into her pretty little neck, the pale, pure expanse of skin is warm to the touch, and the taste of the crimson liquid that spills into your mouth while she sleeps has quickly become addicting. She’s the best you’ve ever tasted. 

She’s getting sick, most likely from the frequent loss of blood,  so some nights you just spend waking her up and talking to her instead of biting into her sweet flesh, and tasting that lovely blood. This is one of those nights, before this, you’d thought she was just like any other of your victims. 

“Stop biting me!” She yells as she turns to face the other wall, freezing up for a split second. But how would she know? And why would she only react now, when you most definitely were not biting her? 

“Lilia? Are you okay?” You say as she turns back around, she’d grabbed an old book from her shelf that she was previously talking about, and carried on as if nothing had happened. 

“What? I’m fine… why?” She said, and as you look into your eyes you see no ounce of year, and no sign of any deception. Strange, you’d seen people phase out like that before, but only ever divination witches, and they had a much better control over when they’d predict something happening. 

You grin, this is a good, but also bad sign… you could keep seducing Lilia, run away with her if she ever gets caught… sex while drinking blood is always really, really lovely and all. Or, it could always backfire like crazy and she might have a divine intervention about you halfway through dinner with her parents tonight, or something dramatic like that. 

“Nothing, Lilia.” You say with a smile and pat the space on her bed she was occupying earlier. “Come back to bed, read me the book” Your smile widens as she blushes, and gets back into the bed next to you, and you pretend not to react as you rest your head on her chin, oh so close to her neck. 

There’s the telltale sign of lust when she hears Lilia’s heartbeat increase, and she starts to read that book. You chuckle, and kiss her shoulder, slightly dragging your teeth across the skin and hearing the girl stutter. 

Scratch what you’d said before, the lead up to drinking blood from cute young maiden’s necks was definitely not getting old, especially when they act all sweet like this.

[wreckedandpolemic]

helloo can you write something on actress readerxmatty? 👉👈

sorry u sent this 103747294 million years ago i Hope ur still around to see this

(minors dni) but i’ve had a problematic age gap celebrity reader idea bouncing around my mind palace for soo long like i'm picturing you're in your early twenties and on top of the world <3 just starred in your breakout role, it girl of the summer type stuff. and you're close friends with another younger artist matty's been working with, so you hear all these stories about him and 'i think you'd really like him, babe, honestly!' with a look. and, look, you're not not interested, but you just got out of a shitty relationship, and your career is really taking off, and– good god, he's hot.

he's visibly older than you, greying a little, all sharp lines and tattoos and vintage leather, a sly smile pulling at his lip when he catches you staring. he raises his glass to you, tilting his head in invitation. as if by some magnetic pull, your feet carry you into the seat beside him.

"hi," you say, waving down the bartender and ordering yourself a cocktail. "i'm a friend of thea's," you tell him, before he thinks you're some kind of stalker.

his mouth drops in an 'o' of recognition. "oh, shit," matty chuckles. "you're the girl from the... the film!" his face splits in a stupidly gorgeous grin, and you're sold, like you're a teenager with a crush all over again.

you raise an eyebrow, fighting to maintain your composure. "you saw it?"

"yeah," he says, eyes flickering down to your lips and sending a thrill skittering up your spine. "you were really good." from the way he's undressing you with his eyes, he's thinking about the shot of your tits. "i'm matty, by the way," he adds.

"i know," you grin. matty watches you curiously and you lean closer, turning your best bedroom eyes on him. he takes the bait, pink tongue flickering out to wet his lips unconsciously.

you expect him to be gone the next morning, expect the lingering memory of his hands on your skin to fade to a story you'll dramatise to your friends. and when his side of the bed is cold, you resolve to move on with your day, not to dither on your conversation, on his laugh, on his head between your thighs. then, he sticks his head around your door, hair mussed and dressed in nothing but boxers. you break into a smile, warmth flooding your chest. god, you really are like a teenager with a crush.

"morning, love," he grins, his voice low and thick with sleep. "where d'you keep your coffee?"

you blink in disbelief, the mundane, domestic question an impossibility rattling through your cynical mind. "it's, uh..." you sit up, raking a hand through your tangled hair. "i'll show you."

you spend the summer falling wildly, dramatically in love, like something out of one of your early, low-budget indie films. but, leaves change, summers end, real life comes creeping back in. you're shooting on location through september, thousands of miles away on a packed schedule, practically tearing your hair out trying to find time for him between filming and interviews and reshoots and whatever the fuck else is grappling for your attention.

the sky is overcast when you land. fitting. your co-star is a tall, blond, all-american type. the kind of man your fans, your agent, and even your parents are falling over themselves to see you date. so, naturally, you hate him. he's brash, abrasive in a way that's supposed to be charming but just comes off self-aggrandising. you grit your teeth and smile through it – you love your job, and you're having fun with the movie, but every second you spend playing at falling in love in soft, sunny los angeles makes you ache for sharp, rainy england and the man waiting there for you.

it's october by the time you get a few days to yourself, driven to distraction by tinny phone calls and grainy facetimes and nothing but your hand between your legs. you've been shooting the same kiss scene from a dozen angles for hours, desperately aggravated by your co-star's grin every time you pull apart, like he's just waiting for you to fall for him, and by knowing that matty is somewhere over the atlantic right now, inching closer by the second.

you're unfocused, and you can tell you're throwing the shoot, wasting daylight. ultimately, you're only prolonging your suffering (bit dramatic, but, hey, that's what you're paid for), but you've never been more grateful to have a director glare directly at you while wrapping. you nod dutifully as he gives his notes, the words going in one ear and straight back out the other, chased out by the singular thought circling your brain: in a few hours, none of this is going to matter because you'll have matty back.

you book it to the hotel, practically diving into the shower to to scrub yourself clean of your co-star's spidery hands. matty texts you that he's landed, and your body hums with anticipation as you get dressed. well, 'dressed' might be a stretch. a scrap of white lace clings to your waist, the matching babydoll dress doing nothing to protect your dignity. smirking to yourself, you snap a photo of your garter belt and the stockings clipped on, and send it to him. hurry please xx, you add. his reply is immediate. fuck. you're killing me.

the minutes tick by agonisingly slowly, every second weighing on you like a physical pain. finally, after what feels like hours, there's a soft tap at your door. you fluff your hair in the mirror, wiping at a smudge in your lipgloss with a thumb. taking your time while knowing matty's only feet away from you is excruciating, but there's still something delicious about making him sweat. he knows it too, playing your game and waiting instead of using his own key.

the moment you open the door, his mouth is on yours, hungry, open-mouthed kisses stealing the breath from your lungs. you luxuriate in the taste of him, familiar and intoxicating. "thank god," you mutter against his lips as he pulls away. "i was starting to forget what being kissed is supposed to feel like." something dark glitters in his eyes, spurring you on. "spent all day with that prick trying to chew my face off."

"well," he begins, jealousy scraping in his tone. "i guess we'll have to find a way to help you forget, then."

"mmm, is that so?" you whisper, taking a calculated step back. "how are you gonna do that, healy?"

the words die in his throat at the sight of you, his gaze burning as it roams over every inch of your skin, arousal pooling in your core and dripping between your legs. "you look..." he fumbles for words as you grin.

"i know."

[digitaldiarystuff]

Bad Liar Pt.2

note: hello, it’s me (read it in adele voice) thank you so much for the likes it makes me want to write more enjoyy

————

summary: you are in a long time situationship with pedri and you’re falling more and more everyday hoping he feels the same

pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Y/N

genre: pure angst

————

You spent the night bawling your eyes out and hugging your best friend for some support. After a couple of hours your tears started drying and you ran a bath to collect your thoughts. Okay, let’s look at the facts, you’ve been around Pedri for months and never noticed a hint of a girlfriend. Sure you weren’t spending every hour of every day but he stayed at your place once or twice a week and you never even saw him pick a phone call with a girl, sometimes you noticed him focused on his phone brows furrowed answering some texts and yeah you thought maybe he was messing around with someone else but never had the courage to ask about it and honestly after a while, you started trusting him. Trusting him seemed like the biggest mistake you’ve ever done. You believed what you had was special and he was in this with you. What a fool you were.

After the shower you just put on some pajamas and went to lie on your bed but before you could even sit down your mind went back to the morning, how he was sleeping like an angel next to you in this bed. Tears were rolling from your eyes uncontrollably. Realizing you couldn’t bear to sleep there you decided to let your friend crash in your room and took the couch instead. She tried arguing but didn’t press too much. She knew you needed space. After some more crying you let sleep take over.

The morning after wasn’t any better, you woke up crying and picked up your phone to see if there was any notifications from him, you hated how weak you were over someone not worthy but you couldn’t be strong right now. The only thing that could heal you was him and he broke your heart to a million pieces. Just thinking about last night made your stomach turn and you ran to the bathroom to vomit, it was your body’s reaction to everything that happened over the last 12 hours, how turned upside down your life was.

He hadn’t texted you, not even a sorry or can we talk. It was like he forgot about you all together. You had a million questions. How long was this going on, did you mean anything to him, who was she, why did she post him last night, did she know about you?

Your friend’s first suggestion was to make him pay, share all his business with the whole world and destroy his quiet shy and kind guy image but she knew you’d never do that, even he’d know you wouldn’t. Then she said the next best action would be to ask him straight up, you could also ask the girl but you don’t think you can handle that confrontation. You’re too angry to do that.

“What should I even say?” you ask her desperately.

“Just say meet me at mine. Don’t make it obvious that you know.”

“What if she’s with her.”

“Oh I hope she’s with her.”

“No, what if he doesn’t respond or says no?”

“Then we go over there.” she answered nonchalantly and shrugged “What? Don’t you think he deserves it?”

“I do, I really do but I’m not confident enough for any big fight.”

“You have to do this or your inner thoughts will eat you up.” you knew she was right.

to PG: can you come to my house?

from PG: i can’t busy day

to PG: okay then just come tonight

from PG: busy again, i’ll tell you when i’m free

You were getting more upset by the second, he didn’t even respect to enough to have a decent conversation with you. He must know how you felt because you never hid it and still, he just didn’t care.

to PG: it’s either you come to me right now or i’ll come to yours to meet your girlfriend

from PG: be there in 30

So that’s how he wanted to play.

Soon after the text you hugged your friend goodbye and started waiting for him and even though you weren’t proud about this, you changed and applied some light makeup. You didn’t want him to see how he broke you. As soon as you heard the knock, you looked at yourself once more and opened it allowing him to come in. You were staring into his soul with a newly found bravery while he averted his eyes. He couldn’t even look at you.

“I’m gonna get some water, do you want anything?” he asked and you were shocked at how he tried to make this normal.

“Sit down Pedro.” he was shocked as you used his name, you’ve never called him Pedro but calling him Pedri wasn’t an option to you anymore.

He said nothing and plopped down on the couch.

“Talk.” you ordered.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You could start by explaining.”

“Look I’m sorry if you feel some type of way about it but honestly I don’t get why you’re this upset.” you just stared at him in shock. How could he try to minimize the situation?

“What do you mean you don’t understand. You have a girlfriend and I don’t even know for how long, you played me and you’re here trying to say it’s nothing. How can you be so calm right now?” you ask agitated.

“Y/N we both said we didn’t want commitment.”

“Yeah because you already had one, to your girlfriend!” you yelled.

“Pedro how could you keep this from me? If I had known I would’ve never been with you, you don’t love me that’s fine I can live with that but how can you sit there and disrespect your relationship disrespect me? Do you really don’t care at all? After we spent months together, after you confessed to me that I’m the only one you could confide in and trust fully and I shouldn’t have trusted you for a second. Don’t you see how wrecked I am, do you not care about me one bit?” you ask fully crying now. His nonchalance is far worse than anything you could imagine.

“Look, we’ve been on again off again for a year now and I never mentioned it to you because when I was with you, it was off and I didn’t want to talk about it.” he finally showed some emotion and it was annoyance but it’s better than nothing.

“You’re still lying to me. If you were on and off why were you in bed with me twice a week? Does your relationship end that quickly? You cheated on her with me and used me. I never asked to be a part of this, I even wanted to end things early on when I realized I had feelings for you but you didn’t accept it. You came to my door, asking for my forgiveness Pedro. You begged me to take you back and I have, if you really only used me why try to win me back, was it all a game? Did you have fun did you laugh at me?”

“No it wasn’t a game I just, I couldn’t lose you, I knew then and there I just couldn’t but I didn’t know how to explain it and the longer I waited the harder it got. I even tried to get you to leave me but I couldn’t leave you. She was away all the time and you became my rock and I got used to waking up next to you and being with you. Last night she came all of a sudden saying she’s moving here permanently and I just” he sighed and you could see tears forming in his eyes “I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry for everything.”

You looked at him and even though you were so heartbroken, you realized maybe this was the last time you got to speak to him.

“Last night I asked to meet up because I was ready to tell you how I felt, I was going to confess my feelings and ask you a question I was dying to ask.”

He looked up at you fidgeting with your fingers, having difficulty breathing.

“What was it?”

“I was going to ask you if you love me.” you whispered.

His gaze turned to his hands on his knees.

“I would’ve said yes.” his voice was so low you almost didn’t hear him.

“But you can’t today, can you?” you found the courage to look up at him again, already knowing the answer. His mind was made up, if he was going to break up with her, he could’ve done it yesterday but he didn’t. They were a happy, throughly messed up couple and you were nothing more than a side chick.

“I’m sorry.” he said while getting up. “I just, I never wanted to hurt you.” he came in front of you and kneeled down to hold eye contact.

“I’m sorry I’m so sorry” he repeated again and again crying and tried holding your hands. You couldn’t even look at him because you would’ve held his hands and calmed him down. This is the first time he’s full on crying next to you and all you wanted to do is console him, be his anchor but you can’t.

“Please look at me.”

“I can’t, after knowing everything I can’t look at you.” you said. You gazed at your hands covered by his and tried your best to not break.

“What I said to you was never a lie, I never lied about my feelings to you.” he confessed.

“So I should believe you love me when you couldn’t even tell me you had a relationship. It can’t be true if you’re here telling me you’re going back to her. If you loved me just one bit, you’ll let me go Pedro. I can’t be in a situation where I’ve been lied to for months and can’t even trust you.” you said still not looking up.

“I understand.” he said not moving. He didn’t stand up just stood by your knees and held your hand as both of you cried some more.

“I think you should go”

He started getting up but sat next to you on the couch

“Can I hug you goodbye?” he asked in a childlike manner. You said nothing so he decided it was okay. You actually didn’t say anything because you needed his affection one last time. This was wrong but you needed him as much as he needed you. Pedri embraced you in his arms and you put your arms around his neck. You sat there entangled in each other for a few minutes until your mind screamed let go so you did but as he was backing up he held your tear stained cheeks and pressed his lips against yours for the last time and you let him. You couldn’t fight it, you just enjoyed his lips on yours and after that he was gone.

Pedri will always be your the one that got away.

————

note: omg i’m gonna cry at how sad it happened but this relationship is nowhere near ending so if you’re interested please share with me your thoughts and opinions about the story luvs

ALSO, should this story have a good or a bad ending i’m so conflicted please helpp

[forgotten-daydreamer]

"I hate how they're writing Damian in Batman #146, he can't be that dumb, he's so ooc."

I mean, they're writing him almost as if he were a literal child who wants, no, needs to believe that his father's ideals aren't as fucked up as his mother's, who blindly believes in the man whom he learnt to trust despite being raised with widely different beliefs and ideals for the majority of his so-far short life.

Almost as if Damian were a pre-teen, or young teen at most (because how old can he be here, 13? 14?) who desperately clings onto the belief, onto the hope that his father hasn't really abandoned him, because his father is Batman, and Batman always has a plan, doesn't he? Obscure, complex, but a plan nonetheless, and it (almost) always turns out fine, so Damian needs to trust him, he knows he can, he knows that Batman is safe.

Logically, everyone else is older; I think the one whose age he's closest to might be Tim here, who's about 18 as usual, I guess. But Damian is a child, he's a child who's overall relatively new to Batman's antics, and he's a child who (unfortunately) rarely saw the difference between Batman and Bruce Wayne, a child who rarely got to meet Bruce Wayne at all, if you think of it.

You (you readers, not the characters in the story - because it makes sense for them to be so lost in the plot of their world that they lose sight of things) cannot blame a child for being delusional for believing with his whole heart that his father is not an evil bastard who's attacking everyone, allies included, family included. Because again, Damian doesn't really have a clear idea of how Batman and Bruce Wayne differ, he rarely got the priviledge to be with his father, Bruce Wayne, and not with his work partner, Batman.

You (readers) cannot really tell me that you're putting the blame on a child for 'snapping out of it' so late.

Of course, everyone is free to have their opinions, and if you think that this version of Damian is ooc or whatever, it's a valid, let's agree to disagree. But from a narrative pov, you can't possibly deny that it makes sense for Damian to be acting like this. He's a child, a literal child.

Expecting him to regulate his emotions as well as his sibs do is messed up. Which, by the way, they don't. Dick is a mess but keeping it together - except for the whole "punching your father senseless" thing, but good for him, I'd have done the same there. Jason is a mess and doesn't try to hide it, Steph is baffled and Babs is exhausted. The others are nowhere to be seen (and I'd have done the same pt2). Tim's the only one with a plan that's actually somewhat good - hope he makes Bruce snap out of his fear-induced little gateaway once and for all.

I know not many are fans of this run, but honestly? I'm digging it, it's possibly one of my faves. I love the drama, love the angst, love the plot-twists, like Damian snapping out of it just for Zur to silence him? Backup Robin who grins suspiciously like Jason? Tim ditching his phone - which is ossibly the most shocking thing? I'm hyped as hell.

All of this endless yapping to say that, okay, feel free to hate this or whatever, but please be humble enough to admit that Damian is being written exactly like he should be. I get it, DCAU gave us "Damian who talks like an old man, who never smiles and doesn't understand his peers" and it's cool. He's a bit like that in the comics too. But newer comics have a (very welcome, imho) tendency to write him as 'awkward' while simultaneously keeping in mind that he's a teen. And it's the best thing ever.

I, for one, needed reassurance at Damian's age. I needed an anchor and that anchor were my parents - growing up, the dynamics shifted but it's not the point. At 13, 14, or whatever Damian's age is, you're just a child who needs reassurance, because you're changing, the world around you is changing, and you're disoriented as if lost at sea. Writing Damian like that makes sense, it's not even up for debate.

He's not ooc, and he's not dumb either.

He's just a child.

Feel free to dislike how they're writing him, feel free to dislike literally every single detail about everything, this is a free world. But please don't tell me that needing a parental figure to be there for you, and that siding with said parental figure no matter what because they're essentially all you got left (rip batfam I guess?) - is ooc for a child. Damian is a child, don't forget that.

[yxlnst]

Hello! i hope youre having a great day/night

I’ve recently read your fics and i do truly love them, i was here to request something if you dont mind. Feel free to ignore this if its uncomfortable for you!!

I honestly LOVE heavy angst but fluff at the end lmao, could you maybe write something rreeallllyyy angsty with jun, but with a fluff ending? I can’t really come up with good ideas tbh, but maybe a huge argument? Honestly i dont know i just cope with these stuff so anything is fine lol.

Thank you so much if youre seeing this!! Have a great day/night

ofc!! And thank youu aswell, also if the story was not what you had in mind please tell me!! Now lets focus on the ff :DDD

Rebuilding Us

idol!Jun x reader!Y/n

Angst + Fluff

🧸 Word count 🧸 : 664

🎀 Summary : Argument drives you and Jun apart. Reconciliation brings the two of you back together stronger.

🧸 - - - - - - - - - - - - 🎀 - - - - - - - - - - 🧸

Jun stood in the living room, tension crackling in the air like a live wire. You had been arguing for hours, and now, exhaustion and frustration were beginning to take their toll.

"I just don't understand why you can't see it from my perspective!" Jun's voice was raised, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the intensity of the argument.

You crossed your arms, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. "And I don't get why you're always so quick to dismiss my feelings! It's like you don't even care!"

His eyes softened for a brief moment before the anger flared up again. "That's not fair, and you know it. I care more than you realize, but this—" he gestured between the two of you, "this is tearing us apart."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken words and hurt. You both stood there, breathing heavily, trying to process everything that had been said. The emotional distance between you seemed insurmountable.

"I just… I need some space," you finally whispered, the words cutting through the tension like a knife. "I can't keep doing this."

Jun's face fell, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability behind his anger. "So, what? You're just going to walk away?" His voice was quiet now, laced with pain.

You turned away, unable to look at him. "I don't know, Jun. Maybe we both need time to figure things out."

As you walked to the door, you heard him sigh deeply. "I don't want to lose you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't keep fighting like this either."

You paused, your hand on the doorknob, and looked back at him. The sight of him, standing there with a mixture of desperation and sadness, made your heart ache. "I need to think," you said softly. "I hope you understand."

Days passed, and the space between you and Jun felt like a chasm. You missed him terribly, but the arguments had left scars that were slow to heal. One evening, as you sat on the couch, lost in thought, your phone buzzed with a message.

Y/n can we talk? I miss you.

You hesitated, your heart racing. After a few moments, you typed back a simple reply.

Okay.

That night, you met at the park where you had shared so many happy memories. Jun was already there, pacing nervously. When he saw you, he stopped, his expression a mix of hope and fear.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," you replied, equally nervous.

There was a long silence before Jun spoke again. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said. About how I dismiss your feelings. You're right. I was so caught up in my own frustrations that I didn't really listen to you."

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding. "I wasn't fair either. I should have tried to understand where you were coming from instead of just getting defensive."

Jun stepped closer, his eyes searching yours. "I don't want to fight anymore. I want us to work through this. Together."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded. "Me too. I hate being apart from you, Jun."

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "I love you. More than anything. Let's not give up on us."

A tear slipped down your cheek as you squeezed his hand. "I love you too. Let's start over."

Jun pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he was afraid to let go. The warmth of his embrace felt like coming home. In that moment, all the pain and anger melted away, replaced by the promise of a fresh start.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy. But as long as you had each other, you were ready to face anything together.

The night sky above was clear, the stars shining brightly as if celebrating your reunion. And as you walked hand in hand, you both knew that the love you shared was stronger than any argument, ready to face whatever came next, together.

[noona-clock]

Are You Sure? - Part 1

Hmmm if I can request something, maybe exes to enemies to lovers with Jungshin? Not sure if you’d like details but it could be this prompt if it’s easier?: “trying hard to hate each other but something happened and they were stuck together. emotions & passions were running high”

I'll tell you what, anon. I honestly wasn't sure I would ever actually write this... but here we are! Thank you so much for requesting this, and I hope you enjoy your exes to lovers series! (I couldn't fit the 'enemies' part in here, I'm so sorry)

Genre: Exes to Lovers, Fluff, AU

Pairing: Jungshin x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Epilogue | Words: 1,706

"Are you sure?" your best friend, Emily, asked you for at least the fifth time.

Before you answered her, you quickly pulled your phone away from your ear and checked how long it had been since you'd picked up her call.

Seven minutes.

Five times in the last seven minutes, your friend had asked you 'Are you sure?' when she had more important things to worry about right now!

Way more important things!

"Emily," you said firmly. "You are getting married in three days. I am one of your bridesmaids! I am incredibly, positively sure that I am getting on a plane in twenty minutes to be there for you!"

I mean, honestly! Three days away from your best friend's wedding where you're a bridesmaid! Did you even have a choice at this point?!

"I know, I know," Emily replied with a slight whine. "But -- it's just -- I mean -- well... you know."

You pressed your lips together to stop a sigh from escaping because, yes. You did know. You knew exactly what she was talking about.

And that 'something' was Jungshin. He was one of Yonghwa's best friends -- Yonghwa being Emily's future husband -- who was going to be playing in the band during the wedding reception.

And Jungshin also happened to be your ex-boyfriend.

But what did she expect you to do? Not go to her wedding? Return the beautiful bridesmaid's dress you'd bought months ago? You'd spent too many embarrassing hours on the phone with the hotel and airline trying to ensure you weren't around a certain bassist ex of yours for any longer than necessary to let it all go to waste now!

You were going, and that was that!

"I'll be fine!" you convinced her. And, yes, you were also convincing yourself. "We're both adults, we can be civil. And if I don't feel like talking to him, it will be easy enough to avoid him!"

Emily was silent on the other end for a few seconds, then she let out a short exhale.

"Okay," she finally said, her voice quiet and filled with compassion. "You're a really amazing best friend, did you know that?"

Her words made your heart swell. "Not as amazing as you!" you replied with a cheesy smile you were sure she could hear through the phone. And before you had a chance to get all mushy and start crying (you would do more than enough of that over the next few days), you added, "I'm boarding soon, and I haven't even gotten my coffee yet, so I gotta go."

"All right," Emily acquiesced. "I'll see you soon. Have a safe flight!"

"I'll convey your words directly to the pilot," you chuckled. "Bye, friend!"

Once you ended the call, you slid your phone into your pocket and made your way to the nearest coffee shop. Even though you'd said goodbye to stop yourself from getting too emotional, you'd also told the truth -- you hadn't gotten a coffee yet, and at this point, you desperately needed one.

Thankfully, there was a small stand between your gate and the next, so it didn't even take five minutes for you to procure a steaming hot cup of brew and join the boarding line for your flight.

As you were trying to balance your coffee, your carry-on, and reaching back into your pocket to retrieve your boarding pass on your phone, you noticed someone in your peripheral vision. They had just arrived at your gate, and you were absolutely too focused on not spilling your drink to care about who it was... except...

You would recognize that tall, lean frame anywhere. Even in line at the airport after catching just one side glance at him, apparently.

"Shit," you whispered to yourself as your heart dropped down into your stomach.

Yes, you had been somewhat prepared to see him for the first time in months, but not here! In every scenario you'd pictured in your head, you would see him from across the room at the rehearsal dinner: a room so crowded, you would have plenty of places to hide and avoid. And you'd accepted that, were at peace with it!

Reality, it seems, had other plans! Because he was here! At the airport! At your gate!

Wait, hold on.

...Did that mean...?

Oh, surely not.

That didn't mean he was on your flight, did it? Because, as previously mentioned, you had changed your ticket for the sole reason of not being on the same airplane as him for three hours!

So, had he also changed his ticket?

Before you could think any more about that, you reached the gate attendant and had to scan your boarding pass.

"Thank you," you murmured after hearing the melodic 'ding' of a successful scan, precariously shifting your phone to the same hand as your coffee so you could grab the handle of your suitcase.

As you walked down the boarding bridge, you had to actively force yourself to concentrate on not spilling your phone or dropping your coffee so your mind wouldn't wander to a certain fellow passenger whom you had not been expecting to see for at least 24 hours.

Nope. Rewind for just a second!

You had absolutely just thought 'spilling your phone or dropping your coffee,' and it absolutely should have been the other way around.

Let's try that again.

As you walked down the boarding bridge, you had to actively force yourself to concentrate on not dropping your phone or spilling your coffee so your mind wouldn't wander to a certain fellow passenger whom you had not been expecting to see for at least 24 hours.

There we go.

Now we may continue!

You had double-checked your pass about five times before Emily's call, so you were certain you were in seat 22A. What seat was --

No, stop! Stop thinking about him! Keep thinking about holding your phone and your cup in a firm grip so neither of them fell to the floor!

"Hello!" a smiling flight attendant greeted you as you stepped over the threshold and into the plane.

You greeted him back, flashing him a quick smile and carefully navigating into the narrow aisle to make your way down to row 22.

Then, after you set your phone down on your seat and a very courteous person behind you offered to hoist your carry-on up into the overhead bin, you slid past the other seats in your row and plopped down in your chair by the window.

...Okay, now you could think about it.

What seat was Jungshin in? Would he have to walk past you to get to it? Would he see you? Why was he even on this flight? He was supposed to be on a flight tomorrow, as was the original plan the two of you had made when you'd still been together! So, he obviously had also changed his ticket, but why? For the same reason as you? To avoid being on the same flight as you? The thought that had persuaded you to change your ticket was that he wouldn't have had the idea to do it himself. (To be honest, that was a rather large part of the cause of your break-up -- he had relied on you to do a lot of the heavy lifting in the relationship, at least mentally and emotionally.) It just didn't make sense to you that he would have been thoughtful enough to do something like this for you!

Had he really changed that much since you'd last spoken? Honestly, the curiosity was starting to eat you up inside, but before you had the chance to dig your phone out from underneath you to text Emily, you caught a glimpse of Jungshin coming down the aisle.

Hurriedly, you slid down into your seat and leaned forward as if you were searching for something in your personal item bag on the floor. Even if he did walk by you and noticed you, surely he wouldn't be able to recognize you based solely on your hair. A lot of people had the same color hair as you!

For what seemed like hours, you dug around in your bag, sifting through everything you'd packed in there, but of course looking for nothing in particular. And when you finally felt it was safe enough to sneak a peek, you ever so slowly tilted your head to the side, letting your hair slide away just enough to allow you to see.

Well, there was no sign of him in your row, thank god. So, you lifted your gaze just a bit more. Relief flooded your chest when you saw the aisle was ex-boyfriendless, also. Of course, this meant you didn't know where he was sitting. You'd have to subtly investigate during the flight because the not knowing would bother you.

Let's be real here: everything about this situation bothered you. You had already been dreading seeing Jungshin at this wedding, but you'd been slightly comforted by the fact you wouldn't have to share a flight or hotel room with him. And now you'd been robbed of half of that comfort!

You were supposed to be happy for your best friend as she married the love of her life and started on the beautiful and wonderful journey of marriage with her soulmate. You were supposed to be thrilled, over the moon, basking in joy!

But, nope! You were bothered and uncomfortable and irritated and jealous and annoyed and --

Wait, excuse me?

No.

No, no, no, You were not jealous.

You truly were not sure why you'd thought that word because you weren't. You were not jealous! Not at all!

Had you thought at one point that you were going to marry Jungshin? Yes, to be honest, you had. Were you upset that it wasn't going to happen?

...I mean, maybe.

Not upset, really, just... a bit glum. A relationship ending is almost always upsetting, right? Especially when it had been someone you'd thought you would marry.

But never mind all that. The point is, you were not jealous.

You. Were. Not. Jealous.

Now, you just had to get through this flight and get to the hotel without thinking about, seeing, or bumping into Jungshin.

Should be pretty easy, right?

Part 2

[aligatorfishcave]

#2 - P.Z Little Sister

minimal use of y/n

In 3rd person cause i hate myself and cant write any other way

she/her but like, if you wanna ignore it please do

word count: 1307/1.3k

her love interest may or may not be inspired by top gun cause like challengers, I'm obsessed with it.

warnings: as far as I know there aren't any warnings, let me know if there are any and I'll add them, mostly just fluff, some flirting and maybe a bit of angst, also some swearing.

—

2007

—

It wasn't hard to tell when Patrick Zweig was on campus. At Stanford or Yale, he always made a ruckus, either fighting with his sister, flirting with Tashi or messing around with Art. 

Chaos incarnate.

He visited Y/N often enough but honestly it wasn’t hard to see how Patrick favoured Art and Tashi at Stanford over Y/N at Yale.

—

Y/N sat in the back of the lecture hall, chewing on her pen as the speaker explained his techniques for calculating the statistics behind the stock market. She stopped chewing on her pen long enough to quickly scribble down a few notes.

The hall wasn't exactly quiet. Although Yale was one of the most coveted colleges in the world, a fair amount of its students got in as legacies from previous students, teachers and even ancestors, if the kid was desperate enough. The statistics lectures were more of a blowoff class than anything else, people talking, doing their nails, eating, even throwing a football around. The few who were actually listening, sat near the back of the class, all keeping their distance from each other.

When she’d written her notes, the end of the pen went back into her mouth, her other hand tapping on her paper.

“Chewing on pens isn't good for you. The ink can explode and it really doesn't taste good.” A voice in front of her said. Each level of the seats and desks, going further back into the room were more elevated than the last, so Y/N had to look down and lean forward slightly to see who was talking to her.

In the seat in front of her, a woman with her hair pulled straight back into a tight bun sat, half turned around in her seat to look at Y/N with a grin.

“No shit Sherlock.” Y/N said, letting her pen drop onto the table. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nyla, nice to meet you sweetheart.” The girl, Nyla, said, still grinning at Y/N like she was god's gift to the world. She would probably like Patrick.

—

A few weeks after the class, after the two girls had exchanged numbers, they had been texting non-stop. 

That was exactly what Y/N was doing before someone decided to interrupt her.

“Y/N! Y/N!” A familiar voice yelled out, accompanied by two sets of feet stomping along the concrete as they made a bee-line for her. Patrick and Art.

She laughed slightly, slipping her phone into her pocket and standing up just before they practically tackled her into a hug between them.

“What are you doing here!” She laughed, wrapping her arms around the two boys.

“Surprise road-trip!!!” Patrick practically yelled, pulling his sister closer and spinning her around as Art laughed.

—

Two hours later Art and Patrick were sitting in the front seats of Patricks shitty old car with Y/N lying in the backseat texting Nyla.

“So. How's school?” Patrick said, glancing back at his sister. “Who are you texting?” He changed the question before she could even answer it.

“School’s fine and it’s none of your damn business who I’m texting.” She said, glaring at him without really looking away from her phone.

“Ooooo. Y/N’s got a boyfriend.” Art teased, essentially turning around fully in the passenger seat.

She rolled her eyes, shoving that little bit of guilt away for not correcting him, even though Nyla wasn't even her girlfriend, she couldn't bring herself to admit she liked a girl, her new friend, in a romantic way. “Piss off, Art. How’s Tashi?”

She knew it was a low blow, bringing up the girl that they both loved and desperately wanted. When neither of them answered, the silence loud, she laughed slightly, going back to scrolling on her phone.

—

Two days later, after having switched between sleeping and driving periodically between the three of them, they finally pulled into the carpark of Art’s dorm at Stanford.

In the front seat, Y/N rested her head in her palm, glancing back at the two boys who were passed out against each other. She let them rest for a few minutes more before slamming down on the horn, startling them both awake.

“Son of a bitch that's loud.” Art groaned, earning a laugh from Y/N and a grunt from her brother, who pried himself off Art and opened the door, climbing out of the car with a groan.

Y/N kept laughing to herself, her and Art following as they all grabbed their stuff from the boot, continuing to follow Patrick to go meet up with Tashi before their game.

Art had a non-competitive match, what a smart idea, going on a 45 hour road trip there and back before a match, and Tashi had a non-competitive match, but with how well she played it might as well have been competitive. Despite the two women never having met, Y/N had an insane amount of respect for Tashi. Not just for being the number 1 female player in the USA, but for dealing with her brother's bullshit and somehow not hating him.

The tennis grounds were closer to the middle of the grounds and a fair walk away from where the car was parked, so Y/N got to see the Stanford campus, not that it lived up to Yale in her opinion.

Her and Patrick said goodbye to Art as he went to warm up, the siblings heading up into the stadium and finding seats. There were a few matches before Art and then Tashi, so they had plenty of time.

Eventually, the blonde made his way onto the court, destroying his opponent 2 to 1. He joined them in the stands a bit before Tashi went on, though Patrick left a few minutes after Art got there and wasn’t back when Tashi started playing.

The match was going well, Tashi was going easy on the girl but keeping a steady lead. Beside Y/N, Art's head wasn't moving like everyone else's, watching Tashi instead of the ball.

One misstep. One ill calculated move. She hit the ground, a scream filled with pure pain escaping her.

Art was up in seconds, Y/N on his tail. He shoved through people in his path to get to Tashi. Practically jumping down the stairs to get to her. He sprinted across the court, jumping over the net and sliding to the ground on his knees. Y/N remained back a little bit, feeling as if she was watching outside her body, watching Art gently hold Tashis head off the ground as she cried and the medics checked her leg.

He helped them get her down into the medical office while Y/N followed just behind, Patrick still nowhere to be seen.

—

The room was cold, the walls brick and the AC cranked on its highest setting.

Art sat next to the examination table where Tashi sat with a towel rolled up under her knee, arms folded over her face. Y/N stood with her back against the wall a bit behind Art, silently fiddling with her phone.

Footsteps sounded down the hall, getting closer. Patrick walked just past the room, backtracking to stand in the doorway, his eyes kind of red but Y/N can’t tell if its from crying or weed. “I’m sorry-”

“Out.” Tashi interrupts him.

“Tashi…”

“OUT!”

“Listen–”

“OUT! OUT! OUT!” Tashi yelled

Patrick kind of just stood there for a few seconds…

“Patrick. Get the fuck out of here!” Art yelled at him, standing up. 

The room fell silent again, Patrick and Art staring at each other, Tashi staring at the roof and Y/N standing against the wall, watching her brother's friendship deteriorate. Patrick left a second later, not sparing Y/N a glance, probably not even noticing she was there.

—

part two is out, yay, its kinda really trash but Nyla is here now, yippee, good times ahead. well, for Y/N. not Art, Tashi and Patrick lol.

I'm actually really proud of this, it's over 1000 words which I think is pretty good.

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

out of all the people you write for in cod watchdogs and strangerthings who is most to least kinky

COD i dont think a lot of these men would be diabolically kinky, like they see enough shit on a daily basis, i think they just want to be loved.

BUT-

Konig and Ghost are at the top of the list, they're into some weird shit konig moreso they're both into size difference stuff, like,

ghost cant get over how small you feel in his hands, it turns him on so fast. he covers up for it by teasing you or playfully being mean, bullying your cock if its smaller than his, poking fun at how wet your cunt is when he hasn't even touched you yet, stuff like that...

i also think he might be into bullying or degradation, not to him of course, if you try to bully him he gets all fussy but as soon as the tables are turned hes relentless.

konig LOVES your size difference, i wholeheartedly believe this man is a sub-leaning, he can still dom he just needs to be in the mood for it first but thats pretty rare. so if you're tiny and you can still dom someone the size of him hes head over heals swooning for you. if you top him AND dom him hes actually in love.

hes got some other nasty kinks as well, i can feel it

third place is a close tie between soap and price,

price is super into taboo stuff, it just takes a minute to unlock that side of him. he likes being called daddy and sir and LOVES roleplay

soap is an exhibitionist, you can't argue with me on this one. he pulling you to every little nook and cranny he knows of and having at it. there was one point in his life where he couldn't have sex in normal places like he just couldn't get hard at all unless there was a chance you could get caught.

Stranger Things

first place is Johnathan, youu know that saying i think its like the quiet people are always the freakiest.

hes nasty, i can feel it in my bones.

he LOVES taking photos of you and himself, he gets off on knowing you're probably jerking off to one of his pictures.

slight exhibitionist, he likes going to develop his photos in public dark rooms, the thought of someone seeing one gets him all hot and bothered.

hes kind of into cnc, as far as his photos, nothing more than taking pictures of you without you knowing you've already consented before

next in line HAS got to be eddie, theres someone i cant remember the name of who hc's him as a virgin and i whole heartedly believe it, hes had so much time to just sit and think, hes got so many filthy little fantasies and hes so pent up

he likes being edged, hes only thought about it, every time hes tried he ends up getting too desperate and making himself cum anyway, if its by accident or not.

he gets off on being called a pervert, maybe a freak but only if its in an explicitly playful way, theres a fine line and honestly its better to steer clear of degradation unless he states he wants it outright.

he likes being made to say what he wants, he likes to act confident and stuff but as soon as it comes to actually having sex hes so nervous.

i also think he really latches onto nonsexual domination, not like anything aggressive just if you nonchalantly do something that strikes as dominant in your every day life he starts getting hot and bothered like, telling him to do something "answer the phone, I'm busy" or "move i need to get over there" he likes a man who can assert himself without being overly aggressive.

steve and controversially billy have to be the most vanilla,

as much as i want to say steve is a kinky degenerate, hes not. hes a rich white boy with no parents, he probably just wants to be comforted during sex.

but that doesnt mean he wont try things you want to try, hes open to suggestions you have. the kinkiest thing hes ever initiated would probably be heavy making out along with some frottage in a public bathroom.

billy is heavily traumatized and very like self-repressive and oppressive, he hates himself for being gay and he probably won't let you touch him like that for the longest time.

WATCH DOGS!!!!!!!!!!!! i was so excited to get this one, i never get watch dogs asks but i love my babies sm

first on the list is wrench, duh. the guys a fucking degenerate, he wants to try any and everything, no matter what it is.

i think his personal favorites are choking, cameras/filming, wearing women's underwear, and exhibitionism less so in legion

he doesnt like being called or calling you daddy unironically, it gives him the ick if its done seriously.

second is probably jordi. the more i think about it the more i think he might be kinkier than wrench but jori knows what he likes whereas wrench will do anything.

jordis into objectifying, hes not really the kind of guy to turn to a sex worker, i see him as a fuck buddies guy purely because he thinks hes too old/his job is too much to have a real relationship with you but he still acts like your boyfriend and he gets possessive in the way where he stalks you and your socials for more info about that new guy you're hanging out with. he wants to be the only guy you fuck and what he wants he gets.

jordi also favorites rough sex and choking and he likes cumming inside you whether you like it or not.

hes also super into spending money on you but only when it benefits him, he'll whine and complain if you ask him to buy you a charger or something but hes all over buying you like expensive ass lingerie or something

in last place is marcus, im sorry but he doesn't give me kinky vibes, the kiniest hes ever gotten was playing the weekend and turned the leds red while you fucked

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Hii!! First of all, I think it’s obvious but I have to say it, you are the absolute best Kate bishop writer on this mf app, honestly I adore all your fics because you get her character perfectly and it’s just amazing how on point she is.

So I wanted to request, if it’s possible and you feel inspired because I know for a fact that angst is just about luck for inspiration, a Kate bishop x fem!reader in which reader is a red room black widow and they are in a relationship (Kate doesn’t know about her being a black widow), and then reader gets assigned to kill Clint, she knows that Kate and him are close so reader decides to break up with Kate to make things easier when inevitably Kate discovers reader’s occupation. The point is that reader wants to break up with Kate in a way she knows Kate will hate her enough to not be hurt when she kills Clint. I hope it’s clear ;( English is not my first language I’m so sorry. Anyways thank you for your time even if you don’t feel like it’s your kind of thing, I know you haven’t written anything too angsty like this. 💙

Killer

Summary: You can’t live two lives forever.

Pairing: Kate Bishop x female!reader

Warnings: angst, death, violence

Word count: 1248

a/n: ahaha I’m nowhere near the best, but I’m very glad you like the way I write Kate! And please do send me angsty requests!! I love writing angst. And please never apologize for English not being your first language <3 it’s not mine either :)

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13

The next target is Clint Barton.

Pursing her lips together tightly, Y/N stares at the text. It’s from an unknown number, but she knows who it is. This isn’t the first time she has gotten a kill target after all. However, usually the targets were people Y/N didn’t know. They were easy kills. Clint too would be easy if she didn’t know Kate, her girlfriend of one year. He is almost like family to her.

“Shit.” Y/N mumbles, rubbing her forehead as she tosses the phone away. She stays standing in the middle of her living room while coming up with ideas on how to successfully do the mission.

She thinks about the consequences of killing Clint and not killing him. As she paces around her apartment, she makes her decision. At the end of the day, Y/N is a Black Widow assassin over anything else.

Y/N knocks on the door. Her hands are steady and her heart beats normally, but she still feels slightly nervous. As the door open, Kate pops her head through the crack, huge smile spreading to her face when she notices Y/N behind the door.

“Hi!” She opens the door wider and lets Y/N inside her apartment. “What’s up?” Closing the door, Kate leads Y/N to the kitchen to pour a glass of water for both of them.

“Just wanted to talk.” She mumbles and takes a sip of the water.

“Okay.” Kate continues smiling, but it falls a little. She’s worried. Having known Y/N for a while, Kate has learned some of the way to tell what she is feeling, though it was very difficult at the start. “What did you want to talk about?”

“We need to break up.”

The way Y/N says the sentence makes Kate freeze. It’s so emotionless and quick, like she doesn’t feel anything while saying it. “W- what?” She frowns, tears immediately building up in her eyes.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“But..but why? I don’t get it.” Kate takes a step closer. “What happened? I-I don’t understand. I love you and I thought you love me too.”

“I just need to-“

“What do you mean you need to?” Kate’s voice raises a few pitches as she tries to desperately understand where this is coming from. “I love you!”

“I don’t love you. I have never loved you.” The words are harsh, but they’re needed. They hit Kate like ice.

“What?” Kate whispers. “Stop. We can talk about this.”

“I do not love you, Kate.” She emphasizes every word of the sentence, as if talking to a child who doesn’t understand words properly. Kate goes to open her mouth, but Y/N cuts her off quickly. “I was never really in a relationship with you. I’m an agent and all I wanted with you was intel on the Avengers.”

A cold flash goes through Kate’s whole body. Her mind is going everywhere at once. She knew there were risks and obstacles if she became an Avenger, but she never thought she’d get fooled this badly.

“It’s too bad you’re so naive and desperate for love. You never saw this coming, huh?” Y/N forces a mocking grin to her face. “So stupid.”

Kate stays mute, eyes wide. She doesn’t know what to say or do.

“For a year.” Kate gasps silently, feeling like all the oxygen around her disappeared. “You didn’t love at any point?”

Y/N holds on to the doorknob, clenching her teeth together. Without an answer, she opens the door and steps out of the apartment, leaving Kate crying alone.

Y/N is wearing her Black Widow suit, having multiple weapons attached to it. Today is the day she is going to kill Clint Barton.

She’s standing on top of a roof, giving her advantage to see further away as she waits for the target. He should walk through a street near the building soon. That gives Y/N a perfect opportunity. It’s further away from other people and a lot of the buildings are abandoned. So she doesn’t have to worry about witnesses.

Y/N curses when she finally notices Clint walking through the street. He isn’t alone. Kate is there right next to him. This isn’t what she wanted, but she has to work with it. Luckily to her, they don’t seem to have any weapons on them.

Jumping from roof to roof, Y/N finds a latter to descend from so she’d be in front of the pair. She waits for their steps to get louder behind a wall, gripping a gun on one of her hands.

When they are close enough, Y/N steps around the corner, her fist forward to shoot a widow’s bite towards Clint. He groans and falls down to her knees.

Kate gasps and snaps her head towards Y/N. Her eyes widen when she recognizes the person in front of her. “Walk away.” Is all Y/N says to Kate.

“Y/N…” Kate tries her best to keep her voice calm and collected. Slowly she lifts up her hand towards Y/N, not wanting to do any sudden moves. “Don’t do this. You don’t want to this, please.”

“Walk away.” Y/N’s voice is stronger now. It’s clearly a warning.

“Run away, Kate.” Clint grumbles, starting to recover from the shock.

Glancing at Clint, Kate shakes her head. She goes to charge towards Y/N, but falls to the ground as a widow’s bite hits her as well. “No!” Clint yells as he stands up.

He and Y/N start fighting by hand, the assassin clearly overpowering him. After a few minutes Kate gathers up her power and stands up to help Clint with fighting, but as she steps towards them, a shot rings out.

Kate grimaces. She falls back down to the ground. The bullet hit her thigh, not any important vein, but it still hurts too much to move. She screams when Y/N slashes her knife against Clint’s face, cutting deep. He falls down as well. He is breathing raggedly as he stares at Y/N.

“What do you want with us?”

Y/N doesn’t answer. She throws away the used knife and points the gun towards Clint.

“Please, please Y/N, don’t do this.” Kate starts pleading. “If you ever felt anything towards me, please stop.” Y/N takes the safety off of the gun, slightly tightening her hold of the trigger. As Kate realizes she can’t get through Y/N, she turns her attention to her mentor. “I’m sorry, Clint, I’m so sorry.” Kate cries, looking at the scene in front of her. “It’s my fault. This is all my fault.”

Tuning off Kate’s cries and pleads, Y/N takes the shot, successfully completing her mission. She stares at the body in front of her, before putting her gun back to the holster. She glances at Kate, who is kneeling on the ground, sobbing her heart out.

“No! Why did you do that?!” Kate shouts on the top of her lungs. Nothing changes in Y/N’s expression as she continues staring at her. Kate presses her lips together as she holds eye contact. “There’s nothing inside you, is there?” Her voice cracks. “You are a monster.”

Y/N doesn’t even blink. She walks away as Kate starts crawling towards Clint’s lifeless body. Taking out her phone, she clicks her contacts number.

Target is eliminated. Waiting for next one.

[mins-fins]

TO MY FIRST LOVE (K.JH)

SUMMARY . . . a letter to his first love, kum junhyeon, and the memories that follow.

PAIRING . . . kum junhyeon x male!reader

GENRE . . . fluff+angst (deadly combination)

WARNINGS . . . none i'm pretty sure!

WORD COUNT . . . 777 (wow shorter than i expected!)

NOTES . . . here we go with junhyeon!! haha, can't tell if this is supposed to be sad or cute but you can decide that for yourself

dear kum junhyeon,

it's been a while, it has. i like to think that i'm a consistent person, but the last time we talked was almost three months ago, and i just wanna check up on you! i hope your okay, how's the performance art major going? i know your passing with no issue, you've always been insanely talented, i have no doubt that your the star student, especially with how much of a lovable person you are.

i hope you haven't forgotten me, because i haven't forgotten you. i know you've responded to my letters, all of them, but it's been three months, and even though this might make me sound like a clingy bitch, i assume you'd forget me already, because.. i just don't really think i'm memorable. i also just wouldn't be surprised if you forgot me at all, because your busy and having fun, i wish i could be there with you, but the world really just hates my guts.

if your interested, art has been going well. my teachers have told me that my paintings are so good that they could get accepted into an art museum someday, you told me that once, remember? when we were twelve and you saw my painting of that house by the lake, you told me i was gonna become the next 'da vinci', which resulted in me punching you in the shoulder.

i dislike thinking about the fact that we haven't talked for the past few months. i constantly check my phone and frown when i see no notifications from you. did you know, the picture i chose for you is the one from your twelfth birthday, when i put icing on your noise. you always said that photo was embarrassing, but you looked cute, even though you would always vehemently deny that.

it's difficult these days, you know student loans and all, but thinking about you always seems to help me forget about all the horrible stuff going on in my life (you better not call me cringey in the return letter), because.. i don't know, i just like thinking about you for some reason. years ago, i could have never imagined myself saying that, but now, it's kind of hard to go on without you, if you get what i mean.

i could never imagine my life without you years ago..

i hate writing like this, because.. well— i sound stupid when i write about stuff like this. sometimes, i wish i could have convinced my parents to not move me to new york for college, but then again, i am "successful" now, so i guess in the end it all amounted to something. of course, i still have a long way to go, i'm only nineteen, there's still so much for me to do and accomplish, but it's disappointing to think i have done this all without you by my side.

i still have that painting you made me, your a really talented artist, i can't believe you called it "just a small hobby for when i'm bored", when you've made some better paintings than me, and that's saying something. i miss you, like a lot, junhyeon, writing my feelings on paper makes me feel stupid, because expressing myself through writing has always been difficult for me to do, as i've told you before.

i know what we have has always been a little complicated, our feelings are mutual are they not? i'd like to think i'm right in this instance, hopefully, because it would be super embarrassing if i was wrong, but at the same time, how long will it be until we see each other again? how long will it be until i actually get to see you face to face and tell you how i feel all over again?

this is getting kinda depressing, sorry, i just— i really miss you a lot okay? this may come off as desperate and stupid, but honestly, it gets kinda difficult knowing your all the way across the ocean and i could be right there with you if the circumstances were different, but alas, not everything is gonna be in my favor, i realize that now.

anyway, kum junhyeon! it'll be nice to catch up much more personally sometimes, if we ever get the chance to see each other in person once again, which is probably highly unlikely but hey! we all need to have at least a little bit of hope.

of course, make sure to take care of yourself, love, stay hydrated, and get a full eight hours of sleep everyday, i'll talk to you again soon :).

xoxo,♡ y/n

[t0wardthesun]

My Body and Me; a Love Story.

There was a time when I thought I would never write this post. The battle against my body seemed to be the one mountain I would never climb. I would go around in circles, coming up against the same obstacles; bingeing, emotional eating, restrictive dieting and hating what I saw when I looked in the mirror. I honestly thought it was something I would struggle with for the rest of my life. I think every woman knows this journey, some have walked the path before, others are waiting to begin - each of us up against years of conditioning, programming and subconscious messaging designed to keep us small (literally). This is the story of how I took my power back, went from self loathing to self love and healed my relationship with food and my body.

It’s Australia Day, 2008. My sister and I are riding our bikes around the small town we grew up in, jumping in and out of the crystal clear water wherever we can find the space. The path along the creek is teeming with families and kids our age walking around drinking UDL’s and cans of Smirnoff. Despite already being self conscious about my fifteen year old body, I’m feeling particularly brave wearing just a pair of shorts and my bikini top.

As we climb out of the water and mount our bikes to head home, a guy a few years older than me walks passed with his girlfriend. He looks me up and down and slurs, “Yeah, keep riding,” with a smirk on his face. His girlfriend slaps him playfully, looking back over her shoulder to mouth an apology, but it’s too late. My stomach drops, my world crumbles. Everything I ever feared about myself is true. I'm not attractive, I'm not desirable, I’m not worthy and I’m not enough.

I scroll pro-ana blogs and experiment to see how long I can go without food. I practice putting two fingers down my throat, trying to dredge up the shame I swallowed with that second chocolate brownie. I lament to my mother about the size and softness of my stomach, she shows me which ab exercises reduce belly fat.

My breasts grow almost overnight and suddenly I’m the subject of gossip and the butt of jokes. Relatives and strangers comment on my changing shape, as though my body is public domain to be deliberated. I learn that my body is not my own. I walk into the kitchen after dinner out with friends, “You can’t possibly still be hungry.” I learn that my bodies signals can’t be trusted.

I hold myself up against billboards and pictures on the internet and they all tell me one thing; shrink. Shrink and you will be beautiful, and before anything else, beautiful is what you should aspire to be. I stand in front of the mirror and pinch, suck, poke and prod. I squeeze a tape measure around every inch of skin, using the numbers to define how much I’m worth that week. I hide in the pantry, looking for something to fill me. My mind blanks as I reach for packets and jars, a brief reprieve before the guilt kicks in and I berate myself ceaselessly for a lack of self control.

I’m desperate to be noticed. I crave being seen. I take photos on my phone and send them to boys. When I’m drowning in a sea of insecurity, their shallow compliments keep me afloat.

I grew up believing that “big” was the worst thing a person could be. Worse than being mean, selfish or boring, it was the ultimate failure. The subconscious messaging I received was that being skinny was synonymous with being happy. That having the perfect body somehow made you immune to sadness or other negative emotions. Like, how bad could things possibly get if you looked amazing in a bikini? If you were thin then people paid attention to you; boys wanted to be with you and other girls wanted to be like you. To be thin, was to be beautiful - and to be beautiful was to be adored, cherished, loved. Life was an endless exodus away from fatness and toward thinness.

You can imagine the war that started internally when my e-cup boobs came in overnight. Dance costumes had to be altered, bras and bikinis had to be special ordered and I was constantly asking for a bigger size in change rooms. The changes in my body sparked a downward spiral in my self esteem. In my mind, with every kilo I gained I was becoming less important; my ideas less valid, personality less loveable and my dreams less achievable.

By the time I was sixteen, my body was a tool I used to validate my dwindling sense of self worth. I used it when it suited me, to get attention and validation from guys. The more I was willing to show of it and the more I was willing to do with it, the more approval I got. It made me feel powerful. I traded recognition for respect and mistook attention for love. The rest of the time I either berated it with criticism or ignored it completely.

For most of my teens and early twenties, I felt like a floating head walking around completely disconnected from my body. I didn’t identify as my body, it felt like an annoying attachment that kept betraying me by not doing what I wanted it to do or looking the way I wanted it to look. I hated how easily I could be brought down or carried away by the emotions that arose inside me; a wave of insecurity that would leave me hiding under the covers for days, a flash of anger that always left a wake of destruction in its path. It was too risky and far too painful living in my body, so I checked out. For almost a decade, I didn’t look down in the shower and I couldn’t touch my stomach without a wave of nausea flooding through me. I dreaded walking past mirrors or shop fronts and I used to yell at my mum for taking photos of me when I wasn’t looking.

By the time I left home at eighteen, it became apparent that in addition to my negative body image, I had also developed a pretty damaging relationship with food. Food was my anchor and my security blanket. When everything else in my life was uncertain, I could always count on the jar of peanut butter in the fridge. I would use food to suppress negative emotions; discomfort, anxiety, boredom. Even positive emotions - excitement, joy, happiness - were always accompanied by something to eat. It was as though I couldn’t bare to feel anything fully, so I sought a way to dull the experience.

I would spend hours researching different diets and exercise programs, getting confused and overwhelmed by the mass of conflicting information. Was yoghurt good for me, or bad? Should I be eating carbs with every meal or cut them out altogether? Should I be vegetarian, vegan, paleo or #sugarfree? Is running 5k’s burning fat or telling my body to hold on? I would walk around the grocery store with tears in my eyes, totally overwhelmed by all the choices and torn between what I wanted so desperately and what I thought I should be eating.

“Compulsive eating is basically a refusal to be fully alive. No matter what we weigh, those of us who are compulsive eaters have anorexia of the soul. We refuse to take in what sustains us. We live lives of deprivation, and when we can't stand it any longer, we binge.”

- Geneen Roth, Women, Food and God

Before I even knew what it was, bingeing was a regular part of my life. If had a bad day, a fight with my parents or an assignment due, bingeing offered an incredibly effective distraction. There was no thought or awareness, I would stand at the fridge and put whatever was on the shelf into my mouth. Because I refused to have anything unhealthy in the house, bingeing usually meant raiding my housemates cupboards for whatever had the highest sugar or fat content; four slices of toast with tablespoons of honey, two wraps, half a packet of biscuits and coconut oil straight from the jar. It wasn’t until after I had consumed the entire contents of my kitchen that the guilt kicked in. I felt totally helpless and completely out of control.

The promise of a diet is not only that you will have a different body; it is that in having a different body, you will have a different life. 

In 2013, I lost nine kilos leading up to my twenty first birthday. I was eating broccoli with chicken or tinned tuna for every almost meal and smashing myself in the gym 5-7 times a week. Everything in my life revolved around getting the numbers on the scale to drop. I kept a food diary on my phone and wrote down everything that passed my lips and at the end of the day I’d give myself a rating based on how ‘well’ I’d done. A smiley face meant it was a good day, an angry face meant I better try harder tomorrow.

I would measure and weigh myself in the morning and my mood for the entire day, and how I treated myself, depended on what I saw on the scale. I was obsessed with #fitspo blogs and instagram accounts and would spend hours drooling over photos of girls lifting weights or posing effortlessly in bikinis. I would deprive myself all week and have a ‘cheat day’ on the week end, which usually meant buying a block of chocolate on the way home from the gym and making myself sick by finishing off the whole thing in one sitting. A few weeks before my birthday I started taking OxyElite and would happily pop four a day - made me shake and pee constantly - completely ignoring the liver failure warning on the label.

But even when I was at my skinniest, my anxiety didn’t fade and I wasn’t any happier. I still had bad days and moments when I felt unworthy and insecure, and I was so preoccupied maintaining my new weight, I didn’t have time to focus on anything else or enjoy my life. As soon as my birthday was over and I didn’t have a goal to work towards, the weight came back and the battle raged on.

As I watched women my mums age berate themselves for eating an extra slice of cake, apologise for taking up too much space and obsess over their physical ‘flaws’, I started to think maybe this was just part of life as a woman. I hated the idea of passing my insecurities on to my future daughter, but I couldn’t see a way to break the cycle.

So I started working with coaches, and read and listened to every intuitive eating, eating psychology and body positive book, blog post and podcast I could get my hands on. There wasn’t one pivotal moment, but a series of small but deeply significant revelations that helped me improve my relationship with food and lead me back to my physical body…

1. I got angry.

When I discovered the extent to which mainstream media tries to keep us small - literally - as a form of disempowerment, I got angry. By making thinness the ideal and celebrating women who shrink, we get the message that we are not allowed to take up space, a subconscious belief that ingrains itself in our collective psyche. It’s the same belief that stops us from speaking up when we are being taken advantage of, it stops us demanding more from partners who mistreat us, and it stops us creating epic shit and sharing our unique gifts with the world.

As I continued pulling back the veil to expose the corporate agenda behind our BS beauty standards, it got easier to rally against my own inner critic because I knew they were both just trying to stop me wielding the full force of my power as a conscious woman. A woman confident in her own skin is no longer an obedient consumer, she no longer drains her time, energy and resources trying to “fix herself”. She shows up fully as her authentic self. She is a force to be reckoned with.

2. I focused on my strengths.

That insta-famous bikini model posting photos of herself looking toned and tanned in various exotic locations? Yes, she could have done a lot of editing/had surgery/spend thousands on a celebrity trainer, but you know what? Some girls really look like that - and that’s amazing! Go them! You have your own set of unique gifts and God-given talents that are exactly what you need to enact your purpose on this earth, and they might not have anything to do with how you look. Say it with me now, “I was not born to be an instagram model.” (Unless you were, then carry on your merry way). Being trapped in jealousy or comparison usually means we aren’t fully embracing our Genius. Ask yourself, ‘What am I really good at? What do I LOVE?’ then go do that.

BODY IMAGE CHALLENGE: Take a look at the people you follow on social media. Do they make you feel more confident, or less? If you feel ‘icky’ every time you scroll through instagram, it might be time to do a social media cleanse and get rid of any accounts that don’t inspire you to feel good about yourself.

3. I shifted my perspective from the external to the internal.

My journey this year has been letting go of the belief that people will only listen to what I have to say if they like the package it comes in. As women, we are taught from such a young age that beauty equals success, and for so long I was hung up on this idea that in order for my thoughts, opinions or ideas to be taken seriously, I would need to measure up to societies standards of beauty. That belief kept me from showing up fully in my business and in my life. Bullshit!

How many of us are held back from the work we are meant to do and the joy we are meant to experience because of our obsession with living up to someone else’s idea of beauty? How many of us delay happiness and postpone joy, waiting until after we’ve lost the weight or dropped a dress size, to be active participants in sucking the marrow out of our lives?  

These days, I’m focusing less on impressing people with my looks and more on empowering them with my energy. I realised I would so much rather invest my time cultivating compassion, sharpening my intellect and developing the kind of inner radiance that inspires people than forcing my body to take on a shape that isn’t natural for me.

I get that some people absolutely love pushing their body to see how far it can go, but when I think about how much effort it took to maintain my ‘goal weight’, I can honestly say - for me, and my standards - it’s just not worth it. As with anything in life, you have to ask yourself, do you want it because that’s the experience your Soul is longing to have, or because everyone tells you that’s what you should want? Is it your dream or someone else’s?

BODY IMAGE CHALLENGE: Start a creative project that you can work on in your spare time. It could be a collection of short stories, a sketch pad full of drawings or a line of your own handmade clutches. Passion projects are good for the soul and you never know where they might lead ;) 

4. I let go of my obsession with losing weight.

After nearly a decade of trying to get smaller, the thought of giving up scared the shit out of me. I clung to diets because they gave me a purpose, losing weight made me feel accomplished. It was easier to write a meal plan than it was to map out a plan for my future. And it was easier trying to change my body than it was to change the world.

I also thought that if I wasn’t following a strict eating and exercise ‘plan’, I would completely lose control and binge until I was the size of a house. And for a while, I did go a little crazy. I had to rebuild the trust between me and my body. I needed to prove that I was sticking to my word this time and I wasn’t going to deprive it any more.

But when I stopped labelling foods as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ and started giving myself unconditional permission to eat whatever I wanted, eating an entire block of chocolate lost its appeal. I could have it, so I didn’t want it. If I did end up over eating, I quickly forgave myself and moved on. No judgement, criticism or shame, just unconditional acceptance. I quickly learnt that most of the time I didn’t actually want the chocolate, I wanted the way it made me feel; worthy, deserving, full.

Instead of using food to suppress my emotions, I wanted to tap into my bodies natural wisdom. I started by opening up the lines of communication. I wrote her letters in my journal, apologising for all the times I had ignored her, made her sick and used her to satisfy my ego desires. I promised to take care of her, trust her and always ask her what she needed. I spoke to her like I would my best friend or little sister. Much to my delight, she started talking back.

I’m sorry.

I know.

I love you.

I love you too.

Today, my relationship with my body feels like rekindling a romance with a long lost lover; we’re both still marvelling at all the things we can do together, getting excited about what this means for our future and falling more in love with each other every day. Like any great relationship, ours is based on trust, communication and mutual respect. I speak kind words to my body, I don’t make her do things she doesn’t want to do, and I trust that she knows what she needs in any given moment. Sometimes that means making a big fat pasta dish, sometimes it means stopping when there’s still food left on the plate. I still apologise if I drink too much wine and wake up with a hangover. She forgives me and we go and do something to make us feel amazing again.

Exercise doesn’t feel like a chore, it’s a way to expend all the beautiful energy that runs through my body. I don’t slog it out at the gym to burn calories or punish myself for overeating, I move in ways that feel good. Lifting weights makes me feel powerful, dancing makes me feel sexy as hell. My body is an incredible vehicle I have been given to fully engage in this earthly experience, and I love it regardless of its shape or size.

I know this is an ongoing process - as my body changes, I will need to continue practicing self love and some times are going to be harder than others, but never again will I let insecurity hold me back (for too long). 

The beauty standards set by society will continue to change, but I reserve the right to decide what’s beautiful to me, and my definition of beauty is all encompassing - there is room for everyone. I am so excited to see - in our lifetime - a generation of women liberated from the shackles of self loathing, free to share their unique gifts with the world and I am so grateful for the women before me who have publicly embraced their bodies at every size.

Wherever you are on the journey, may these words guide your way home.

Do not be afraid to take up space. Consciously expand until your presence rivals galaxies. Should your body say anything about Who You Are, let it say nothing of willpower or self-control, let it tell the story of your curiosity, your bravery, your compassion. Should you seek to be less of anything, may you be less worried about making yourself look acceptable.

May the only picture of your progress be the feeling of expansion in your Spirit. When you go looking for validation or your sense of Self, may you go only to the Source of all Love that lives inside of you. 

May you appreciate your body as the temporary home your soul chose to inhabit. May you honor her sovereignty and listen to her wisdom. May you praise her in public and pleasure her in private.

When you look at your body may you see our mother earth incarnate; in every crevice and fault line, in the veins that run like rivers, in all the mountains and valleys that ripple across your skin. 

And when the time comes for you to leave, may it be with gratitude as the veil is lifted and the joy of returning to the infinite oneness from which you came... can no longer be contained.

Jae x

If you are looking for more on this topic, check out the recommended resources below. I also run a weekly circle called ‘Love the Skin You’re In’ and I’d love to have you along. (If you’re based in SE Qld / Northern NSW, check it out here > https://www.eventbrite.com.au/e/love-the-skin-youre-in-tickets-626697347637)

Recommended Resources

Embrace the documentary - https://bodyimagemovement.com/embrace-the-documentary/

The Well-Fed Woman - www.rachelwcole.com/blog

Poodle Science - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H89QQfXtc-k

I Didn’t Wake up Like this - https://www.buzzfeed.com/sonamkapoor/i-didnt-wake-up-like-this?utm_term=.clmdDBLaw#.kboeY8g6O

10 Principles of Intuitive Eating - http://www.intuitiveeating.com/content/10-principles-intuitive-eating

Psychology of Eating Podcast - http://psychologyofeating.com/podcasts/

Lauren Beckett, Body Love Coach - http://dropthestruggle.com/

[camgoloud]

🌿💝💥💌

🌿 how does creating make you feel?

oh god. well honestly i feel like it depends very strongly on what exactly it IS that i’m creating… sometimes when i’m writing a character study or an intimate moment i feel intensely vulnerable and open, which is of course both terrifying and extremely cathartic… and then sometimes when i am writing humorous scenes or Cursed Concepts i feel so evil and wicked and pleased with myself the whole time. so which emotions i'm experiencing while i’m actually in the moment of creation can really be all over the map… but of course i can say that once i’ve actually finished creating something i always feel proud of myself! even at times when the piece didn’t come together as well as i was hoping it would in the end, there’s definitely something to be said just for that pure “oh i made a WHOLE NEW THING” sense of satisfaction :)

��� what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

i’ll be honest, i really thought that Do my friends think I’m dying? (or do I just need to go to sleep?) would get about 20 hits total… i mean, it’s a recursive fanfic (inspired by the excellent good old fashioned lover boy) about an extremely minor ted lasso character with an unintelligible summary and the tags “yes I’ve written a reddit thread as a fic” “sorry except i’m not”; i was really just writing it to have a good time (and oh my god, did i have the BEST time…). but the response to it was actually quite warm, and MUCH larger than i was expecting! and not to brag lmao but i got Many compliments in the comments section about how convincing my various insufferable reddit personalities were… i guess i’ve found my calling! i’ve been meaning to write another reddit fic ever since, actually—it really was a blast

💥 find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

least kudos’d by raw numbers would be my most recent one, Philosophical Shifts in Teixcalaanli Xenocontact! (although i wouldn’t necessarily call it my least warmly received—the kudos-to-hits ratio on that one is actually fairly good, it’s just a very new fic for a very small fandom! but i didn’t go through and calculate K:H ratios on everything, so i’ll just talk about this one.) i think that with this fic i really nailed the voice of the narrator, three seagrass—from her speech patterns to the way she thinks about the world; her love for poetry to her partially-worked-through tendency to exoticize the foreign and the new to the detriment of everyone involved. she was a lot of fun to write and i’d love to try my hand at her again soon!

💌 share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

agh okay i’m always the WORST person in the world to talk to about wips because i will happily spin you elaborate tales about all the Concepts i’m currently working on and then you will just never hear about them again… but here’s a snippet from something for stranger things that I’ve been tinkering with off and on for AGES and really do hope to get finished… sometime in the next few years… i’m calling it “things that we were working on,” and em, this one goes right out to you: you know exactly what you did. <3

“Hold the phone,” Eddie interrupts, earning himself a glare and yet another eyebrow twitch, but he doesn’t even care to savor the rise he’s getting out of Higgins this time, because he is actually, genuinely desperate for an answer to the question he’s about to ask. “You’re telling me Steve Harrington is gonna be here? In detention?” This day really is just shaping up to be something else, isn’t it. Steve Harrington in detention? Hell had better not have frozen over yet; Eddie hates the fucking cold. “What’d he do?” 

Or, probably more accurately: what’d he do that they didn’t let him just get away with this time?

[fic writing asks here!]

[billikatchoo]

solar sentience

“Billiiiiii!!”

I heard her call my name from across the street. I hadn’t seen Marusya since Porto. I had to stop myself from running out into traffic to greet her. i had made that mistake before and my knee still gives me trouble. but once there was a break in the traffic i dashed.

she saw me coming and opened her arms to embrace me. i ran into her with such velocity that she fell back, luckily catching both of us because i wouldn’t have been able to.

“i missed you so much, Marusya.” i made no effort to stop the tears from flowing from my eyes. “it’s been too long.”

“we talked for a hour yesterday, you goofball.” we did. we talked on the phone often and had a bad habit of losing track of time. even just to establish when and where we’d meet led us to a long tangent about my travel frustrations. “but it’s so nice to see that smile again.” i grinned even harder.

Marusya led me to the cafe. she had been staying in the city the past few months with friends i would meet later that evening. i was lucky enough that my work brought me to Europe, and luckier still that my path crossed with hers. it seemed predestined.

she took me to her favorite cafe. she loved the pastries here and that was absolutely enough for me. the weather was beautiful today so we sat on the terrace. i found it somewhat overstimulating to be honest. i was distracted by the visibility of the old and intricate architecture that populated the landscape of this part of town. that’s to say nothing of all the people and traffic noise outside, but i did my best to focus on our conversation. it was all i wanted. that and a cigarette. i was surrounded by Europeans smoking over their coffees and i knew it was only a matter of time before i broke my streak. it wasn’t a long streak anyhow.

“i can’t believe it’s been three years already. it’s surreal.”

“i know. it feels at once like yesterday and a lifetime ago that we met.” 

we worked together while we were both in school in Santa Barbara. we bonded quickly over our mutual hobbies and interests. primarily music and philosophy. in that time in our life we both desperately needed someone to talk to.

“yeah, honestly i can’t believe this is how things turned out for us. if you had told me then this is where we’d end up, i’d have laughed. and probably made sure it didn’t.”

“then i'm glad i didn’t tell you.” Marusya smiled. i couldn’t help but smile back. Marusya continued, “i’m sorry again though. i still feel responsible for how things played out in Washington.”

“it hardly matters at this point though. Terra gets released in a few months; i’m sure she won’t hesitate to forgive you.”

“i hope you’re right. i hope she’s as gracious as you’ve been.” Marusya stared into her tea. i hated to see her look so guilty. she deserved to be at peace.

“gracious? i had nothing to forgive, no matter what you tell me.” years ago she had been instrumental in my decision to transition. for that i owed her my life. i would never shake that feeling, even if she was responsible for my wife’s prison sentence. but that was between them.

Marusya started to get emotional, but she was better at keeping it at bay than i was. “i still have a hard time talking about it. i wanted to today, but now i don’t know if i can.”

“well damn, i could’ve brought my cellular then,” i joked. Marusya had asked me to leave it at my hotel. i knew the routine from our community organizing days. if we hadn’t been so diligent about our comms procedures she would be with Terra now, and i’d likely never see either released.

“have you heard from anyone since Terra’s sentencing?”

“no, i thought it best to cut ties with them. i didn’t want to push my luck. but i miss a few of them.”

“maybe when Terra’s back you’ll hear from them."

“i hope not. for her sake.”

“how are things between the two of you anyway? as good as always i hope.”

“actually they’re not. we stopped speaking. or writing letters rather.”

“no! what? why? what happened between you two?”

“she admitted to cheating on me in the clink.”

“what? you lie. tell me you’re lying.”

“i wish i was.”

“are you two done for good?”

“oh god no. at least i hope not. im just upset and we agreed it best that we don’t speak again until she’s up for parole.”

“at least that’s soon.”

“not soon enough.”

“it should’ve been me.”

“you should’ve been the one she cheated with? yeah honestly i’d’ve preferred that.”

“actually Lake did say that they’d forgive an infidelity only if it was her of all people.”

“what? seriously?”

“yeah, Terra has that effect on more people than you realize. i never told you about it because i didn’t want you to feel threatened.”

“i wouldn’t’ve felt threatened.”

“...or get any ideas.”

“okay, fair.”

“i still should’ve taken that rap for her. i never got to apologize.”

“you will one day. one day soon.”

“crazy how one little mistake could have such consequences.”

“just be grateful that was the only mistake you made.”

“i am. and thanks again.”

“for what? i didn’t do anything for you.”

“you saved me.”

“Terra saved you. i just played along.”

“then extend my thanks.”

“i’ve thanked her enough.”

i was growing tired of thinking about about my last days with the both of them. i was at my wits’ end. i excused myself to bum a cigarette from another patron. Marusya used the opportunity to get another tea.

it felt good to smoke again, and to see Marusya face to face, even if we still had some tensions to iron out. we had been unable to discuss it directly, on the chance that a bug might overhear. Marusya was still wanted by the FBI for her connection to the Nerysian Resistance Cell.

i inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill me, and consume me. the nicotine made me feel light, made it hurt less to relive the past.

the Nerysians were the cell responsible for the assassination of Chief Justice Robert Jackson, the first Supreme Court Justice to be assassinated in the country’s history, but not the last. it seems like a minor incident after the events that followed, and i spent a long time hoping that the FBI agreed. luckily i have yet to be proven wrong.

ultimately, the only Nerysian who would do time in connection to that crime was Terra. just our luck. our friend Lake who pulled the trigger was murdered by police on sight. sadly, the trigger was attached to a pistol registered in Terra’s name. she had given her gun to Marusya when there was a string of robberies in her building. Marusya, in the midst of returning it, left it in the trunk of Lake’s car, which was commonly used for Nerysian activity. this led to it being mixed in with the unmarked arms that had shared the trunk that evening. the next morning Lake had taken that gun of all guns.

after recovering Lake’s body and Terra’s gun, it was only a matter of time before they came for her too. rather than implicate others, Terra took responsibility. the rest of the cell took the cue to go into hiding. we had covered our tracks well enough that the only charge they could pin to her was giving Lake the gun. she even convinced the court that she knew nothing of the assassination plans. they never knew of the other illegal rifles and pistols that Lake had access to. they never knew the truth of the Nerysians.

however, they did know that Marusya and Lake shared a house. scared that she could be used to expose an entire network of revolutionaries, Marusya fled the country. i helped her escape to Europe, by way of Portugal, where i had enough connections and spoke the language well enough to get her a stack of Euros, a fake passport and a train ticket to get deeper into the continent. she took refuge with her leftist connections from her post grad years in Eastern Europe. she seems to like it here, but it was hard to tell under all her grief.

Marusya returned, tea in one hand and pastry in the other, as i finished my cigarette.

“you smoked that so fast.”

“yeah, i should’ve savored it.”

“don’t make the same mistake with this,” she remarked handing me the pastry. “do you want to talk about something else? i think the heavy convos can wait.”

we sat to resume our convo. “yes, please. did you have something in mind?”

“yes!” Marusya’s face lit up, her demeanor shifting immediately. “i was reading earlier about the new advancements in cold fusion tech.”

“really?” this was a topic we both had followed since scientists started making advancements when we were in college. it was one thing that gave us hope for our global future.

“yes! they’re creating more and more energy everyday.” her enthusiasm comforted me. “it’s so exciting.”

“where is this happening?”

“at a new nuclear research facility in Vienna.”

“very cool. it’s about time.”

“i agree, it’s a shame that it took such extreme global circumstances to motivate the EU to fund it. but better late than never.”

“definitely. i just can’t help but be concerned with how this tech could be privatized and capitalized. this could solve so many problems across the globe, but that idea feels naive.”

“yeah, we need to be careful with these utopian ideas. every utopia is a dystopia for someone after all.”

“no argument there, but i don’t know what we will do if the people in power choose utopia. it seems almost certain.”

“we will feast upon their flesh,” Marusya replied flatly. “wasn’t that always the plan?” she looked at me earnestly, her eyes wide, as she pulled apart a piece of the pastry.

“yes, but i still pray it never comes to that.”

“too bad your prayers haven’t gotten a response. im sure the sun would know what’s in store for us.”

i thought that was a odd thing to say, at least for Marusya. “what do you mean?”

“wait, did you not hear that the sun is sentient? do you not read the news while you’re on tour?”

“i stopped reading the news when Terra left.”

“she didn’t leave. she was taken from you.”

“don’t remind me.”

“oh sorry. you’re right.”

“what are you talking about then?”

“okay so a few weeks ago some researchers published some really fascinating data that i thought you’d have heard about.”

“it’s been hard to keep up with all the extraterrestrial science that’s been happening since the shattering.”

“yes, definitely. but this is more legit than a lot of the speculation that’s coming out these days. essentially, astrophysicists were able to prove that within the sun there is energy flowing between atoms. and that this energy flows in patterns remarkably similar to the flow of electricity between neurons in the human brain.”

“oh, that is interesting.”

“isn’t it?” Marusya’s enthusiasm always filled me with joy. i missed seeing that in her face for so long.

“what exactly are we supposed to make of that though?”

“well, essentially the prevailing interpretation is that the sun is functioning like a brain, but given that the mass of the sun is so much larger than a brain, there’s practically infinitely more synapses with infinitely more connections, so to speak. and the conclusion researchers are coming to is that the sun is ‘hyper-sentient’ and is observing and on some level comprehending the universe that surrounds it.”

i was stunned. i didn’t know how to respond to that information.

Marusya continued, “i mean obviously we’ll never be capable of understanding exactly how the sun ‘thinks’ or how it experiences reality, or whatever hyper-sentience might imply. but the implications are fascinating.”

“you’re right. i was shocked. i don’t even know what to say.”

“really? i thought you’d have something to say given your sun worshiping tendencies. i really surprised you didn’t hear about it.”

“well, this is validating. i feel like i already knew somehow.”

“maybe somehow we all did. we’re all waves on one ocean anyway. the sun is just like a tsunami.” 

i really liked this conjecture. i knew Marusya thought about life along these lines and i knew that she was right about the nature of reality. “but given that our sun is just one star of one hundred billion, and that’s just within our galaxy, are they theorizing that all stars are sentient?”

“yes, that’s exactly the conclusion they’ve come to. all stars have been reclassed as ‘hyper–sentient beings.’ they’re already calling them ‘HSBs’ and it’s opening an entire new subfield of astrophysics. evidently our search for extraterrestrial life had too narrow of a scope.”

“does this mean they’ll finally stop looking for little green men?” Marusya and i had both long considered this a futile effort and a waste of ever-dwindling resources.

“almost definitely not. everyone still wants to know who built the moon.” Marusya said this almost as if she did as well.

“they want to know who they can declare war on.”

“sure, but maybe we need to be humbled. as a species.” Marusya was right. the hubris of man had gotten out of hand in the past decade, saying nothing of course of the centuries that preceded it.

i nodded as i ate the last bite of pastry. Marusya was right about them, and i’m sure she was right about everything else. but i needed time to process it.

i looked to the sun now. or as much as i could given its unbearable brightness this time of day, this time of year. its rays illuminated big fluffy clouds, clouds taller and wider than any castle in Europe. i wondered if it could feel me, if it could feel the warmth that i felt in that moment, from radiation that connected us directly. i felt so small then; i was one of nearly two million people in this city alone. this city that were its area transposed onto the surface of the sun, would appear so miniscule it would not be detectable by even our most advanced instruments and our smartest scientists.

could it feel what i was feeling? did we only exist as an extension of it? as a cosmic appendage that was willed into existence so that this HSB may be capable of experiencing its own beauty? if so, did that change anything for us? would that bring us to reassess, re-examine, and ask ourselves, “how do we live?”

i knew i wouldn’t come to any worthwhile conclusions now, or soon, or maybe even as long as i lived. we were in a new era of gods greater than ourselves, and for once in human history plainly observable to exist. so why did this bring our own existence into question? i wanted to get into all the questions that raced through my mind then and there, but it was time to leave the cafe. maybe it was best to give myself time to collect my thoughts, and to reground myself with the exciting prospect of exploring a very old city with my oldest friend. Marusya always had a way of bringing me back to reality, no matter how strange reality became.

“what do you want to do first?” Marusya asked me, smiling at me big as ever. i knew from that alone we would be alright.

“buy a pack of cigarettes,” i responded without missing a beat. for the first time since i landed in Europe i had other things on my mind, but i knew from experience that relapsing on my nicotine addiction would keep me from relapsing on the designer psychedelics that captured my youth and were widely available on the continent. i wanted now more than ever to dive back in, to take a hero’s dose and explore this fresh perspective of the cosmos. i wanted to reconnect with our celestial mother, who gave us life and watched closely over us. i wanted to, but i knew i couldn’t let Marusya see me like that, not again. i knew if i wasn’t clean when Terra was released there would be no prospect of her returning to me. i knew that the two of them meant more to me than any drug. on second thought, i decided against the cigarettes, and Marusya led me deeper into this city as old as our measurement of years themselves, guiding me further into the past as she once had guided me into my present. we talked and we laughed and we sang and we cried, and we rekindled the friendship we had sacrificed for the greater good of humanity. for the first time in years, it felt like a worthy sacrifice.

[omaenanimonoda]

Hey, everyone who's been nice enough to like/reblog my drawings - can I tell you something?

Before these things you've seen (and a few really flimsy attempts earlier in the year), I'd gone much more than a decade without drawing anything, and fully expected that I probably would never really try again.

Long story short, I have plenty of other stuff going on in my life, but I'd quit making any kind of artwork ages ago after struggling pretty badly with it psychologically in high school/undergrad. I hated my own ideas before they were even fully formed, and couldn't stand looking at anything I'd made. It was miserable, and I quit, and had already long since accepted all that and moved on, though it definitely disappointed friends and relatives. I just didn't do that sort of thing any more.

Then a zillion years later (this spring) my heart got absolutely fucking shredded by this fucking pair right here. I felt desperate to get something, anything out, and tried a couple of things- a little writing, a single drawing - but honestly that might have been it (even though it's the most I'd ever done for any kind of fan work). If it had just been me without anyone to bounce this stuff off of, I might never have drawn or written anything at all. Again, no plans to ever get back into drawing again. And I never wrote. I did always read a lot, but was too self-critical to try actually contributing anything.

But all your enthusiastic responses and the communal suffering and affection everyone in here keeps sharing over Zhen Hun/Guardian has just been so, so great, and it was never just a thing I was carrying around alone, in my head. It's been so good an experience that at this point, I'm working at least a little on drawing or writing nearly every day. I have this damned picture saved as my phone's lock screen - for someone who always hated their own work so much, that's huge.

So I felt like I needed to let you know that you all have really had a significant effect on something that's kind of life-changing for me, in a way. You've helped me get back into and really enjoy something that I'd previously left far behind me as a bad memory.

Thank you!