#(as you can see. in 2 months it has almost completely taken over my blog)
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I posted 494 times in 2022
That's 339 more posts than 2021!
28 posts created (6%)
466 posts reblogged (94%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@asingularcanadian
@landwriter
@be-they-do-crimes
@teejaystumbles
@alibonbonn
I tagged 490 of my posts in 2022
Only 1% of my posts had no tags
#fanart - 152 posts
#the sandman - 62 posts
#dreamling - 58 posts
#hades game - 56 posts
#patrochilles - 41 posts
#tsoa - 39 posts
#movies - 27 posts
#morpheus - 27 posts
#hob gadling - 26 posts
#achilles - 21 posts
Longest Tag: 134 characters
#and after he leaves (cheeks tinged pink and 'forgetting' the box there) hob's coworkers tell him how dream had been coming in for days
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
“You’ve grown old, Hob Gadling.”
Hob tensed at the all too familiar voice. A voice he’d never forget, despite the years that had passed since he’d last heard it. The melodic, rich voice that transfixed many, Hob being no exception. He swallowed as he turned, knowing the voice could hear it, could hear his heartbeat suddenly in his ears.
“Tends to happen to mortals, you know?” Hob regarded him in the darkness. He was a shadow on the wall, peeling away and floating towards him now.
Morpheus glides until he meets Hob at the window he’s stationed at. The night is cold and bitter, snow has begun to gently fall, like ash after a bonfire. After a public execution.
“Have you come back to me, my one?”
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254 notes - Posted November 8, 2022
#4
Robert Gadling is a character just BRIMMING with possibility. The lives he’s lived, the cultures he’s been a part of. The turning points in history that he’s witnessed! He’s into printing in 1489, imagine he was in Germany when Gutenberg invented the printing press? Why not! (He probably still owns a copy of Gutenberg’s Bible). Hob goes through an art phase and is there for the unveiling of Michelangelo’s David (imagine how fucking immaculate that statue looked in 1501). And then, Hob stays in Italy, obsessed with the renaissance and maybe befriending Michelangelo, gifted with the privilege to witness him working for 5 years on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome. Hob’s life is rife with history, with experience. He’s traveled the world, I bet he joined Ferdinand Magellan’s expedition to circumnavigate the globe (because Hob would, HE WOULD). He lived on that ship and drank piss ale and rum and stepped on land he never dreamed of exploring.
Hob’s there for the steam engine. Can you imagine him ranting and raving to Dream about how they managed to remove water from flooded mines and convert it into energy? “The power of steam!” Hob raves, gesticulating at Dream with a huge grin on. The birth of rail transport, the invention of the telegraph, the suffrage movement “women are finally fighting back!” I’d love to read something where Hob gets smacked with an appreciation for women, because you know he must’ve been some kind of problematic womanizer, back in the day (century). On and on and on it goes!
He's lived dozens and dozens of lives, different names, shifting personalities. Everything you can think of, Hob’s done it. I love when fic writers just let their imaginations run wild with Hob, the deeper the introspection the better.
He strikes me as a man of adventure and consequence. He’s smart, so fucking smart. Imagine the schooling this man has had, imagine the life experience. Imagine the people he’s taken to his bed too. This man is a literal definition of “fuck around and find out.”
Imagine the loneliness at times, knowing each relationship never develops. He makes friends, lovers, and has to break their hearts. Hob probably starts accidentally falling in love with Dream because he’s his only constant in life. He probably bites his tongue every time they meet, wanting to beg for more than one visit a century. By the 1600s Hob’s desperate for companionship. He loves the gift of immortality freely given to him, he treasures every second on this green earth, but god damn can it get lonely.
I want to read Hob speaking foreign languages, communicating effortlessly and fluently with anyone. Striking up a conversation because someone catches him reading a worn copy of The Odyssey in its original ancient Greek or something like that. Can you imagine the tracks he has to switch in his brain when he has to converse in Yiddish? Turkish? Japanese? It probably takes him a full minute to rifle through his metaphorical filing cabinet, like a slow Internet connection because you have too many tabs open.
Imagine all the work he’s done, the jobs he’s taken up, good and bad. Morally gray or just immoral, so bad Hob can’t bear to remember. (He’s been in the mob, he’s been in a gang, he's been a marksman, he’s been a private investigator, he's been a doctor and an archeologist, on and on and ON). I can see him loving a position as a museum curator.
Oh man, this got long.
TL;DR: I go absolutely insane for a Hob character analysis that explores his time through history and how it has changed him as a person.
319 notes - Posted November 13, 2022
#3
Hob hums along to the music quietly playing through his phone speaker, the knife in his hand coming down swiftly over the thinly sliced peppers, dicing them for his latest meal endeavor. He’d never really been much of a cook, but after living on his own for so many years, Hob came to the realization that living off takeout and boxed pasta wasn’t very sustainable (or healthy) and had strived to make at least one homemade meal a day. And today it was breakfast.
He scraped the bell pepper into a small bowl and reached for the red onion. Hob was on a mission this morning to get an omelet correct– redemption round– he called it. Preparing the vegetables was easy enough, it was cooking them with the egg mixture while keeping its integrity that was the challenge.
With the knife poised to make the first cut into the onion, Hob suddenly feels two arms snake around his waist, followed by a cold nose pushing its way through his hair at the back of his neck.
Hob huffs a startled, but pleased laugh, as Dream nuzzles his way around, pressing feather soft kisses on his neck and up to his ear. He didn’t even hear Dream approach; he never hears Dream, like the man weighed nothing or just glided along the squeaky floorboards. Hob unconsciously tilts his head, stretching his neck out for Dream to have more access.
“You weren’t there when I awoke,” Dream rumbles, his voice impossibly low and rough from sleep.
Hob smiles. He still has the knife in his hand, but he’s lowered it to the cutting board, blade safely out of the way.
“I wanted to get started on breakfast,” he answers simply, trying desperately to not turn his head and meet Dream’s wandering lips. “And I made coffee.”
Dream presses his body along Hob’s, crowding him against the counter and ripping a surprised gasp from Hob, which turns into a soft groan as Dream nips his ear before dragging an open mouth down his neck. One of his hands is slipping underneath the hem of Hob’s shirt, rucking it up and fingers dancing across his stomach.
Hob’s eyes slip closed and he swallows hard.
“I’m holding a knife, love.”
He feels one of Dream’s hands move from his hip to lightly grip his elbow, fingers caressing down Hob’s arm and gently dislodging the knife from his hand. Hob chuckles softly, accepting his fate and allowing Dream to tie their fingers together, resting their hands on the countertop as he pushes himself forward again, so Dream’s front is flush against Hob’s backside.
Hob’s breath catches in his throat, feeling the distinct, hard outline of Dream’s arousal nudge against his ass as he shamelessly rolls his hips, pulling Hob impossibly closer as he does so. Hob brings his free hand around, winding it back and touching Dream’s middle, feeling skin. He tilts his head back against Dream’s shoulder, splaying his fingers and exploring down past Dream’s ribs to his hips, and lower…
Hob is almost breathless as he speaks, almost stammers as Dream bites his exposed neck.
“Why are you naked?”
“Why aren’t you?” Dream counters before getting both hands on Hob’s hips and spinning him around, shoving a gloriously firm, pale leg against Hob’s crotch and crushing Hob against the counter with renewed vigor.
Hob can only meet Dream’s mouth as it descends onto his, moaning as Dream’s tongue slides along his, hot and insistent. Hob crumbles at once, wrapping his arms around Dream’s shoulders and pulling so there’s no more space between them, no more air.
Hob cries out at a particularly hard thrust, causing his lower back to dig into the counter’s edge. Dream is kissing down his neck again and Hob can only hold on, getting a handful of silky soft hair and pulling.
“Dream–”
“Come back to bed,” Dream demands, licking the shell of Hob’s ear and making him shudder pleasantly.
Hob relents, abandoning his mission that was breakfast, it had been a lost cause from the start.
331 notes - Posted October 18, 2022
#2
had thoughts about Dream being able to sleep, how soft and human he would look. for your consideration:
Hob announced his arrival from work with a long sigh, heavy with exhaustion, and leaned into the door as he opened it and stepped into his flat. He dropped his keys in the little bowl and toed off his shoes. He had just shrugged off his messenger bag when he noticed a pair of large black boots in the living room, stark against his off-white rug. They were about a meter apart, like they’d been kicked off or tossed aside without a second thought.
With one brow raised, eyes scrupulous, Hob deposited his bag on the couch and bent down to pick up first one boot, then the other, tucking them together and neatly placing them on the wooden floor next to a bookshelf.
“Dream?” Hob called out, straightening up and casting his gaze upon the room. It wasn’t like Dream, when he paid surprise visits, to not immediately be within eyesight of the door, let alone leave his shoes haphazardly on the carpet.
Hob’s eyes landed on the entryway of the hall, spotting Dream’s thick, long coat in a heap on the center of the floor. Worry began to creep in as Hob slowly stepped up to Dream’s mystical coat, his pulse thrumming under his skin. He stooped down, grabbing it by the collar and brushing it off with his other hand. The material felt luxurious in Hob’s hands, soft like cashmere or shahtoosh, but also durable– something akin to wool or even canvas. Hob’s fingers caressed the fabric, feeling the lip of the tall collar between his thumb and fingers.
Gently folding the coat over one arm, Hob continued down the hall, stepping softly, carefully.
Hob’s bedroom door was open, the rays of the setting sun streamed in through the window and lit up the entryway, revealing more dark clothes in a jumble leading into the room.
Swallowing, lips parting, Hob bent down once more to collect Dream’s t-shirt, his pants and, following the line of mayhem, his socks, taking them all into his arms. Hob wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he finally straightened up and turned, but it certainly wasn’t this.
Hob almost dropped all the clothes he had spent carefully collecting, his mouth going dry.
There was a considerable, person-sized lump in Hob’s bed, buried under his thick gray comforter. The only indication that it was indeed Dream laying in Hob’s bed, was the mane of wild dark hair poking out from the mass of linens.
Hob took a step forward, then another, crushing the pile of clothes to his chest as he walked around the bed, his gaze transfixed to the top of Dream’s head– a smattering of black ink spilled on his white pillow. He held his breath as he finally came to face Dream, the only part of him sticking out was his nose and eyes, Dream’s impossibly long lashes draped down, threatening to brush the tops of his cheeks.
Hob felt his jaw drop, lips parting in wonder at this ethereal creature in his bed.
Dream was sleeping.
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565 notes - Posted October 28, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
You are an obsession, you're my obsession
Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me?
“Hello, Hob,” a low, sultry, and achingly familiar voice speaks behind him, cutting through the heavy bass reverberating off the walls and straight through Hob’s chest, lighting him up.
Turning, Hob finds– who he’d been referring to as– his stranger behind him, close enough to reach out and touch. They’re in the middle of the dance floor, bodies packed and grinding all night, but somehow they’ve given them room now.
Hob was dreaming, he was aware of it almost immediately. He’s been thrown back into the 1980s, one of Hob’s favorite periods of the 20th century, and in a nightclub no less. The music loud enough to penetrate skin, feeling the twangy synth pop in his bones. Everyone around him dressed in every color of the rainbow, over accessorized in neon hoop earrings and bangles, leg warmers, windbreakers, and mesh patterns.
Hob’s dreams often took him back in time, and he wondered what prompted this. Though as Hob often did in his dreams, instead of considering why, he simply indulged. The music wasn’t anything particular, perhaps nothing was actually playing and it was all in his head, but Hob had felt the push and pull of everyone around him and followed along like a buoy at sea.
And now, feeling drunk off the sticky sweet air in the room, Hob grins as he boldly steps into his stranger’s space and slips both arms around his middle, pulling so his skinny, pale, gorgeous friend is flush against him.
He’d been dancing with strangers all night, shadows with indeterminate faces, allowing them to trace patterns on his skin, grip his shoulders or tug on his shirt. Hob hadn’t been dancing or even hanging around loud bars or clubs in decades, maybe somewhere deep in his subconscious, he missed it. Missed the anonymity of it all, getting high off everyone else’s pleasure and succumbing to it. So it made sense, as Hob felt himself getting hot, his skin prickling, that his imagination would wander, drifting to his perfect stranger. The only constant in his life, and someone who frequented Hob’s dreams often, especially as their centennial meetings came around or passed.
Though this iteration of his friend appeared distinctly… solid. He was dressed in that long black coat and skinny jeans from their last meeting (where he’d apologized, apologized! And called Hob a friend), his black hair gently tousled as before.
Hob paid it no mind as his tongue finally became useful and spoke for him.
“Hello, stranger.” he tried his best to mimic his friend’s deep voice and giggled at himself, cataloging the twitch of amusement in his usual stony face.
“You were thinking about me.” He spoke again, choosing to not point out how Hob currently had his arms ensnared around him and swaying them back and forth. “In a place like this.”
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811 notes - Posted November 3, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#omg guys...#it is INSANE to me how many notes my silly little fics have gotten#ive written for many fandoms but breaking 100 notes has always been a pipe dream#the sandman (and dreamling) fandom has really been so wholesome and amazing#(as you can see. in 2 months it has almost completely taken over my blog)#ive been having a blast and only hope this train continues into 2023#y'all are so fucking cool a;akjhdfj thank you for accepting me lol#my 2022 tumblr year in review#year in review#tumblr2022
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Changing for the Worst
Warnings: Cussing, talk of a marital break
Word Count: 465
I know this isn't what I'd usually write but I had a friend ask for it and I got wrapped up this week and didn't have anything prepared for yesterday and found this in my docs. Sorry!
“Y/n! Get your ass down here!” Great, he's upset this is the last thing you needed. Just 2 months ago your last name became Laufeyson. Now not to misquote, you loved your husband but, whenever he was in a bad mood sometimes he couldn't help but put you in the crossfires. “Yes, Loki?” You could practically smell the rage flowing off of him. “Fandrall threw snakes into my horse’s path and he bucked me off! I fell into the mud and my clothes were completely soiled!”, he seethed. He could see you flinch, just from his rage you feared him. “Darling, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”, his face softened instantly. “Oh, no it’s ok. I understand.”, he stalked towards you. “No, it’s not ok. Not one bit.”, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s go to bed, my darling. I’m quite tired.”
Two Years Later
“Loki! Get up!”, over the years you had adapted Loki’s easy temper. “WHAT? What could you possibly want now?!”, he scolded coming down the stairs. You two had moved to Midgard to get away from Odin and his overbearing rules. The smaller space of your apartment had meant you two were almost always together, which caused a lot of tension. “We are going to be late for Stark’s party.” “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the damn party.” “Well you need to. If we are going to try and make amends with Thor, this is the best pace to start.” “Y/n?” “What?” “Are we still in love?” “What do you mean of course we are?! You know I love you Loki!” “But are you IN love with me?” “Yes of course I am. Are you with me?” “Yes darling! You are my rock, my one love. I could never fall out of love with you.” Even though you are in love with each other, your marriage has taken a turn for the worst. “Maybe we can fix this”, Loki suggested. “I don’t know if we can fix this.”, tears staining your cheeks. “Please y/n. I can’t lose you. You are the only thing good in my life.” “Loki…” “What darling?” “I think we should take a break. Not a divorce, not a split-up. Just a break.”, you proposed. “I have an even better idea.”, your husband said hopefully. “What?”, you said hoping you wouldn't have to take any kind of breaks from him. “What about… any time we are upset with each other, we will express the problem properly?” “I think that’s a lovely idea.”, you said beaming and walking over the kiss your husband who wrapped you in his arms and whispered in you ear, “I love you so much my dearest.” “I love you too.”
Taglist: @holdmytesseract @bayleighmiller @whollyintroverted @spnjohnlocked @javagirl328 @km-ffluvluv @mischief-dream @asher-england69 @buttercupcookies-blog @glitterylokislut @shineywizardbird
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Staring Over - Chapter 4
Marcus Pike x female reader
Co-written with @absurdthirst
Recently arrived in Texas and only slightly removed from his divorce, Marcus finds himself smitten with the women at the housewares store that is helping him furnish his new Austin condo. It becomes a more complicated situation than he could have expected, but Marcus has never been one to shy away from a challenge when love is on the line. ✨This fic takes place *before* the events of The Mentalist.✨
Rating: M for Mature, but this blog is always 18+
Word Count: 8.6k
Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this fic will include divorce, past abusive relationships, deceased parents, father issues.* Cursing and food mentions. Discussions of family trauma, life-changing events, further divorce drama because Amanda is the actual worst. **Spoiler Trigger IN TAGS, but I didn’t want to put it here for those who like to be surprised!**
Summary: It’s been weeks since Amanda showed up uninvited with the ugly news that she and Marcus are not actually divorced, and life is about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.
Notes: Y’all, watching people hate on Amanda Perez Pike is just warming my heart in a way that makes me giddy. So glad to see everyone is enjoying the story so far!
Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3
Having a Saturday off this weekend was a welcome blessing to be able to spend time with Marcus, until you got sent home from work yesterday. And today, again. The season changes always seem to bring in a slight cold, but this spring has been horrible. So bad that you’re thinking of using a few vacation days to turn your one day off into a miniature sick leave.
To: Marcus Pike: “I think I need to take a rain check on our park date tonight, baby. I really don’t feel good. I’m so sorry.”
Maybe you’ll curl up with a book and spend Friday night in bed with a cup of the Get Happy tea from work that you’ve been addicted to. Missing Marcus sucks, but if you’re actually coming down with something, you don’t want him to catch it, too.
From: Marcus Pike: “Baby let me bring you some wonton soup and cuddle with you on the sofa. I hate that you have been so sick, and I want to help you. Besides, I need some comfort after the last meeting with Amanda and lawyers.”
You pout at your phone on your way out to your car and shake your head. It’s been almost two months since Amanda appeared out of thin air to ruin Marcus’s life and the tangled web of her bullshit isn’t looking like it can be unraveled any time soon.
To: Marcus Pike: If you’re sure. I just don’t want to get you sick by accident if this is actually a cold instead of allergies.
From: Marcus Pike: 1000% sure. I'll grab the soup and be over as soon as I can. Do you need anything else baby? Cough drops, Pepto, tampons?
To: Marcus Pike: Some ginger ale? Thank you, handsome. See you after work.
It’s not until you’re in your car with the engine turning over that you pause. Tampons. When was the last time you had your period?? Besides some spotting in the last few weeks…did it skip last month? Why can’t you remember? The stress of Amanda being around and a few of the sales associates at work quitting all at once had completely taken up your attention. Being shorthanded and essentially haunted by your not-boyfriend’s not-ex-wife seemed like plenty enough stress to turn cause a skipped period, if it had actually skipped. Had it…? Fuck
******
Marcus is grateful for the fact that you had given him a key to your condo a month ago. It makes it easy to slip inside and bring in the bags without bothering you to come to the door. He hopes that you are asleep, getting the rest that you need, and he hates that you haven't let him over for the past few days to take care of you. Humming, he brings the bags into the kitchen and tries to let the stress of the day roll off his shoulders. It was getting ridiculous, Amanada's demands and her lawyers kept telling her to settle but she was not budging. Dragging her feet and trying to contest everything. She was even claiming the money from the sale of the house in Oregon had been given to Marcus so now a forensic accountant was going through his accounts.
"I thought I heard your car." You had been out in the garden with your tea, soothing your clear overreaction to the ridiculous idea that you could be pregnant with the sunlight in the garden while you waited for him to come over. Shutting the backdoor behind you, you set your mug down on the counter and open your arms to offer him a hug. "How was work?"
He needs this, the feeling of your warmth and love around him. The solid wall of comfort that only you can provide, even while you are not feeling your best. He holds you tight and rubs your back while pressing his lips to your hair and rocking back and forth with you gently. "Work was fine." He mumbles, kissing your head again. "Work is good. How are you feeling? What do you need from me?" He asks, pulling away and noticing the tired and slightly worried look on your face.
"I was just having a minor breakdown in the garden." You sigh heavily, having decided over the last hour that it's best to tell him about your little freak out rather than keep it a secret and let the worry fester. "I...need to talk to you about something. If that's okay." Seeing the instant worry on his face, you shake your head again and cup both of his cheeks in your hands. "Everything's okay. I was just thinking through something, that's all."
"Okayyyyyyyyy." He's cautious but he trusts you. If you say that everything's okay, then he will believe you. "What were you thinking through, beautiful?" He asks softly.
“Um…” The thing you absolutely had not figured out how to handle was telling him your paranoid thought. No brilliant, creative, soothing way of revealing the worry had occurred to you. No flash of genius to land this softly on his shoulders. To fill the space, you grab two bowls and plates for whatever other food he had brought, piling things up in your arms to grab forks and spoons so he can follow behind with drinks and the bag of food. “When you asked me if I needed anything else…” Breathe. “You…you asked specifically about tampons. And I realized…I don’t actually remember if I got my period last month.”
It takes less than two seconds to make the connection and Marcus' eyes widen and drop down to your stomach before darting back up to your face. Ten thousand emotions are warring inside him all at once and he can't panic. Not when you are looking at him like he's a life preserver and one the edge of having a breakdown yourself. "Okay." He swallows and nods, pulling his keys out of his pocket again. "I'll go get a test. Or two tests." He tells you, wanting to put your mind at ease as well as his own.
“I grabbed one from Naomi’s bathroom.” Your roommate, bless her paranoia, always seemed to be ready for every contingency. In this case, you had actually had to stop yourself from taking it instantly, wanting to talk it through with Marcus before doing anything at all. “I didn’t lie to you, honey. I’m on the pill. I have been since I was 16. So, there is absolutely no reason to think I could be pregnant. But…I’ve been thinking it over, and I would feel more comfortable if I took a test, just to be sure. A lot of stress symptoms can coincide with pregnancy symptoms, including missing your period, and I’ve definitely been stressed lately. I just…I felt like you deserved to know that a test is being taken. And I thought you would want to be here when it is.”
"Breathe." Marcus drops his keys on the counter and reaches up to cup your cheeks with both hands gently, giving you a soft, reassuring smile. "I know that stress can cause a lack of period and I'm absolutely confident that you didn't lie to me." He knows that. You weren't the type and the past seven weeks getting to know you without touching you intimately again had proven to him over and over again that you were the woman for him. "If it makes you feel better, I think you should take the test and I'll sit right here or sit in the bathroom with you. You tell me what you need from me."
For the millionth time in seven weeks, you desperately wish you could kiss him again, so you reach for his hand and press an ardent kiss to its back - the small symbol of intimacy that you’ve created between you that stands in for every larger act that the two of you are not currently engaging in. “I’m going to go upstairs and take the test, just to put my mind at ease. Will you set up dinner and maybe pick out a movie to watch?” Looking up into his face, you can see that crease in his forehead deepen measurably. “And maybe let me snitch one or two of the crab rangoon that I know you have in that bag?”
He nods and leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead. "I'll even be generous and split them with you." He offers, shooting you a small grin and loving when you giggle slightly. "Go take the test, baby." He wants to be up there with you, but he understands that you might need to do it alone.
The little plastic stick is sitting on the counter in your bathroom when you get back upstairs, right where you left it and just as judgmental in how it’s staring at you. As mechanically as you would sit down and pee for any other reason, you unwrap the test and follow the directions. Your intention was to sit in your bathroom after you had finished and washed your hands, but it’s too nerve wracking. For as certain as you are that it will be negative, the small, nagging possibility that it might not be, has you back downstairs with a minute still left before the test has fully developed. “I don’t know why I’m so anxious.” You admit softly, appearing at the bottom of the stairs again to find that Marcus has turned your coffee table into a small altar to food and drink.
He looks up at you and gives you a smile before his brow furrows slightly. He hadn't been timing you. Nope. It wasn't like he knew you had been upstairs for two minutes and forty-five seconds and most pregnancy tests that he knows of take at least three minutes. "Already done?" He asks, moving over to you and pulling you into his arms for a comforting hug.
“Nearly.” Checking your phone from the safety of his arms, you watch the last seconds tick down together, inhaling almost in unison when the timer goes off. The test is in your other hand. It’s not a million miles away, or an object of actual harm, but you’re still holding it away from your body like it might reach out and pinch you. “I need you to look,” you decide finally, burying your face in his chest. Now that you’ve spent well over an hour mulling the idea over and over and over in your mind…it sounds like it might be wonderful to have a child with Marcus. But the way you’re both living now is…less than ideal. To put it very gently.
"Of course." He could see the worry in your eyes, even if you are trying to hide it. Very similar to the same twisting of Marcus' gut. It's not that he doesn't want kids, fuck does he, but like this? "It's just the stress, baby." He promises you with a surety he doesn't exactly feel. He takes the test from you and inhales softly, taking a deep breath before he turns it over. Staring at it for a second in disbelief before he looks down at you with wonder, horror and excitement all mixed up in one expression. "It's— it's positive." He whispers, holding it out to show you.
“That’s good, it’s better that—” You had already started talking, preemptively pushing out the words you had been thinking as loudly as you could to convince yourself that a negative result wouldn’t make you upset. “It’s what?” Your head shoots up when you finally register his words, both of your hands cradling his hand holding the test so you can get a better look at them. “Oh my god…”
Marcus is thinking about ten thousand things at once and nothing all at the same time. He's terrified of the idea that he is just like his father and that makes him want to throw up and yet he also wants to celebrate that the woman he loves is carrying his child. He chokes out a sound and nods. "A baby."
“Oh my god…” There doesn’t actually seem to be a more articulate sentence in your head right now, and that bothers you more than you would like to admit. This is something you want. Something Marcus wants. But neither of you wanted it like this. Nudging him toward the sofa, you still haven’t let go of his hands. “We’re…oh my god.”
"I'm going to give her what she wants." He tells you quickly, getting you settled and cupping your cheek. "I'll promise her the trust when it's available if she'll sign the divorce papers." He would do anything to be free of her right at this moment. Anything to make him free to love you like he wants to, needs to. “We're going to have a baby.”
“Marcus, no.” You’re already shaking your head at him before you can pull him down to sit next to you. “You can’t be serious. She doesn’t get away with all of this Scott-free just because we’re…pregnant.” You can barely say the word. It's still such a shock to your system. Not that you’re upset about it - actually as the seconds tick by it’s starting to sound exciting - but because you’re still in shock. “She doesn’t get to hurt you and get away with it.”
"But—”
“Baby, think about it.” Finding his eyes, you know your own are clouded with worry and - if you’re honest with yourself - fear. “Would you ever be able to stop being mad at her, if she ended up with the money? Even if you were never going to touch it, you would despise giving it to her. We should take a look at the wording of the trust again. Maybe there’s something we missed, or we can tie it up for the baby or something.”
He closes his eyes and blows out a breath. "You think I'll blame you..." He whispers softly. "If I give her the money."
“I don’t know.” The thought hadn’t been as clear in your head, but…that is a large part of it. Twenty-five million dollars is more money than you have any real concept of, and as far as you can tell, giving it to Amanda is the most heinous use of millions in the world. “But I know you’re not your father. And your father gives people money to make them happy. Regardless of the surrounding circumstances.”
You've got him there. He opens his eyes and finds yours. His fingers curl around your neck and he drags you close to him to press his forehead against yours. Wanting so desperately to give in and kiss you but the reminder of his father looms heavily on his shoulder. "You're right. I don't want her to have it. Not when she's actively ruining this time for us." He whispers. "I love you. I love you so much."
“I love you, too.” The words have passed between you so many times over the last few weeks that it’s a relief and a comfort in this moment. “I think…I think we have some things to figure out.”
He gives a small snort. "Some things?" He asks, cracking a smile. "We need to get Amanda to go the fuck away." He leans back against the sofa and brings you with him. "And a doctor's appointment for you. Just to verify and start you on prenatal vitamins."
“Okay, a lot of things.” Curled into his side, your hand carefully lays itself on your deceptively normal, if slightly bloated belly. You’d thought it was a couple of extra pounds from eating out with Marcus more often, but this is definitely bigger than that. “Like trying to figure out how the fuck my birth control failed.”
He hums, leaning back and his hand joins yours on your stomach. He can't help the smile that rides across his face when he realizes that his baby, your baby, is right underneath your hands. "Did you miss any days?" He asks, knowing that it can happen when you are busy. "Or take antibiotics?"
“No, I’ve been really good about it.” The importance of keeping your birth control has been drilled into you young, when your mother had found the shredded condom box in your bathroom garbage and taken you to the doctor the next day. “And this is the first time I’ve felt sick in ages.” Just from pure curiosity, you pull your phone out of your pocket and Google a quick search for things that could interfere with birth control. The fourth item on the first list you find makes you curse and jump up from the couch. “Son of a bitch!” You call out from the kitchen, coming back into sight with the tin of tea that you’ve been drinking nonstop for months in your hand. “St John’s Wort. It was my damn tea.”
He chuckles, knowing how often you brew yourself a cup of tea and shakes his head. "I guess that's our answer." He can't be mad, not at you and not about something like this.
“They should put a warning label on shit like that.” You’re not upset, somehow. Surprised, obviously, but you can’t bring yourself to be mad about something this miraculous. “I guess the universe wanted to make sure we’d stick together,” you joke, a small smile creeping across your face.
“You aren’t getting rid of me now.” He tells you playfully, sending you a wink.
“I don’t want to get rid of you.” The cup of ginger ale he poured for you is calling your name, and you nab it to take a sip. “I hate when you don’t stay over even though you’re sleeping on my couch and not next to me. I don’t know how clingy I’m going to start feeling once I’m a couple of months along.”
He gives a small groan and pulls you down onto the couch again and somehow miraculously avoids you spilling your drink. “I— god.” He whines, curling around you thinking about it. “I might have to sleep next to you.” He murmurs softly. “Hold you. I’ve missed it.” He knows it’s silly since it’s been one night that he’s gotten to hold you while he slept, but he dreams of it.
“It’s up to you.” Not a single night has gone by when his space next to you hasn’t been open if he wants it, but you know the whole situation is about to get a hell of a lot harder in him. As much as you want to beg him to just kiss you for fuck’s sake, you know that’s not fair.
He tells himself that it’s a special occasion. The woman he loves is pregnant with his child. He cups your cheek and nuzzles his nose against yours. “Can I—” he hesitates, knowing it’s not fair, but he wants to kiss you so badly.
You swallow down the immediate YES! response that resounds in your mind, knowing how big a question it is that he is actually asking. “It’s always okay with me,” you assure him quietly. The fact that he’s so close that you’re practically salivating and panting for him is beside the point. “It’s always up to you.”
He groans and leans closer. Touching your lips to his for the first kiss in seven long, desperately dry weeks. Closing his eyes and sighing against your lips.
It’s a goddamn miracle you manage to put your drink down on the table in time to wrap your arms around him. You have to force yourself not to open your mouth, not to deepen the kiss, not to fucking crawl into his lap like you want to, but just allow this moment as a privilege in the midst of something unbelievable. All the self-restraint in the world doesn’t keep your cunt from clenching down on nothing when the reality of kissing him again is so much better than your memory.
He tries to keep it light, but he’s helpless to do anything but deepen the kiss. Opening his mouth and his moans when you do the same, inviting his tongue into your mouth and he’s immediately accepting.
The sheer bliss of having him with you again nearly fogs your mind over completely, and you go right with it when his strong, sure arms pull you flush against him, and you groan at the feeling of his body firm against you.
“God.” He groans into your mouth, ravenous for you and unable to do more than just plunder your mouth. Sliding his hands down and squeezing your ass while he drags you on top of him, practically whimpering when he feels the heat from your core against the tented crotch of his suit.
“Jesus, baby.” Instinctively searching for that amazing feeling of friction, your hips take on a mind of their own when they grind down in his lap, and you gasp at how hard he is just from kissing you. From kissing. Kissing you. Something he was dead set on not doing while he’s still legally married to the demon of a woman known as Amanda Perez Pike. “Marcus…” It takes every ounce of physical and emotional strength you have to pull away from him, panting desperately as you press your forehead together. “Baby…we can’t…”
He murmurs a protest and chases your lips for a moment before your words penetrate the sheer need that is coursing through his veins. For a second he feels like you are rejecting him but then he realizes why you stopped him and if it's possible, he falls just a little bit more in love with you. "Fuck." He whispers, squeezing you and exhaling roughly before he lunges up and presses his lips to yours again, much more sedately this time before he leans back. "I'm sorry, baby." He whispers, blushing slightly at how out of control he got.
“I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.” Smoothing one hand down the pinpricks of stubble on his jaw, you can’t help but hate all the rules all over again. You know that he needs them for his peace of mind, and you don’t begrudge him that, but you really, really hate them sometimes. “We may need to reevaluate what physical acts of intimacy are off limits,” you suggest, willing to admit that it’s a slightly self-serving idea. “And…figure out how we’re going to handle relationship questions when they inevitably pop up. Doctors, nurses, complete strangers being nosy once I start showing…all of that…”
His head drops back against the cushions and he lets out an angry huff. "Jesus." He hisses. hating how his ex-wife - he will never again think of her as his wife no matter how much she tries to get to him to - has messed up his life with you. "I—I want you to move in." He admits softly. "With me. I don't want to miss a minute of you being pregnant and if— if she's going to be stubborn about this...." He knows he can't keep the rigid set of rules in place, he won't survive. Not with you now carrying his baby.
“She’s absolutely going to be stubborn.” You know she is, and there is nothing you want more right now than to punt her back to Oregon. “But I don’t want to let her stop us from having this.” Climbing carefully out of his lap, you move back to the edge of the couch to offer him his plate. Cold crab rangoon isn’t fun for anyone, and eating will help you keep your hands off each other. “Can I ask you something?”
"Anything, baby." Marcus takes the plate and reaches down to adjust himself before he leans forward to grab your ginger ale for you to take when you settle back with your own plate. He knows that Amanda will be stubborn, the fact that she is still sleeping in his spare bedroom on an air mattress said that. Even though she had whined and complained about it hurting her back. She had shut up when he told her that the hotel had very soft beds.
“If you take Amanda out of the equation,” which is the fucking dream, if you’re both honest with yourselves. “If it was just us, two months into a reasonably normal relationship and I find out I’m pregnant…” With your free hand, you reach out and squeeze his arm gently. “What question would you be asking me right now?”
Marcus sends you an 'are you kidding me?' look and gives a slight chuckle. "I would be asking you how you felt about the last name Pike." He tells you honestly. "Not just because you are pregnant. Although that would have prompted me to move up my timetable— but also because I know that once I am out of this mess, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
It’s good to see that you know him as well as you think you do. Marcus isn’t an extremely subtle man sometimes, and you thought you’d caught him poking around in your jewelry box last weekend when you were getting ready to go out. “I want that, too.” You know that for sure, and with no hesitation. A chaste relationship hasn’t been all fun and games, but it definitely has led to a lot more talking and spending time together outside the bedroom, and you’ve loved every minute you’ve spent with him. “I think moving in with you is going to be tricky because of the Death Eater in the guest room, but it will be nice to dream about what color we want to paint it for a nursery once she’s gone.”
He snorts, lifting his brow at the very apt nickname for Amanda. "Well, maybe if you are living there, she will stop walking around naked." He grumbles, tired of basically burying his head in his phone walking through his own damn house. "Although I can walk through that place with my eyes closed now and not run into anything."
“You never know,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “I have seen her naked before, even if it was ten years ago. She may not give a shit.”
He nearly chokes again but it's a very different image in his mind this time. One that if it wasn't his ex-wife in, he would be happy to entertain. He closes his eyes and shakes his head and huffs.
Giving yourself a moment to stall by munching a little on your dinner, you take the extra second to breathe as well. A baby. You’re going to have a baby. With possibly the best man you’ve ever known in your life. As bad as things may be in other ways, the fact that there will be a new baby Pike in the world in a few months makes everything a hell of a lot brighter. “If I’m going to move in - which I want to, by the way, so no take-backs - we need to seriously evaluate the whole no touching and no kissing thing, I think? I just…not because I want to force you into anything or I’m trying to talk you into anything. But because I don’t want you trying to hold yourself to an impossible standard of saint-like behavior when we’re going to start sharing a bed pretty permanently.”
He has been thinking about this a lot. Endlessly at night, when he’s holding a pillow on your couch instead of in your bed curled around you. “I know.” He keeps his eyes on his plate and tries to form words around his thoughts. “It’s - it’s not going to work if I try to keep a barrier between us.” He admits softly, knowing that every day has him shuffling closer to the edge of sanity. “And I know how I’m going to react to your changing body through your pregnancy.” He leans forward and sets down his plate to turn and look at you seriously. “I am going to marry you. Make this – us - legitimate.” It’s such a stupid thing to be hung up on, especially in today’s society. But his own experience has him hesitant to let his child experience one moment of feeling like he didn’t have a place. “I’m tired of not kissing you.” He whispers. “Touching you. It sucks.”
“It really sucks.” You can’t help the small laugh that escapes your lips as you nod your agreement. “And I think…I think forcing yourself to pretend it’s all one hundred percent okay is just as harmful as pretending none of it is okay. So, we don’t have to do anything quickly. We can move my stuff in and let ourselves have some more physical intimacy, but…slowly? If that makes any sense at all?”
“How about I hold you while we sleep and kiss you, but we hold off on anything else? Because, obviously, the baby is not happy with you right now.” Marcus offers, comforted by your offer. He knows that you are never going to push him for more than he can give.
“Clearly.” The laugh you huff out is grumpy at best. Your hand travels down to your belly again and you shake your head. “They really wanted me to know they’re there.”
“I know this is going to sound insane, given your reaction, but— you want this, right?” He knows it’s not the best of circumstances, but he wouldn’t dream of fighting you if it wasn’t something you wanted with everything in your being.
“If I didn’t, I would have said so right away.” With permission agreed upon that kissing can happen now, you gently lean over to press your lips to the corner of his mouth before pulling away. “I love you, Marcus. And I love this tiny little Pike-ette, too.”
“Pike-ette.” He chuckles and kisses you again. “You need to eat, baby.” He pulls away and chides you lightly. “I know you haven’t been. And we need to make a doctor’s appointment.”
“I’ve been trying.” You whine, looking down at your belly with an exaggerated pout. “Somebody is just a little picky about what their incubator has to eat, apparently.”
Marcus sets his plate down and bends down, pulling your shirt up and scrubbing his nose against your belly. “Hey there, mini-me.” He looks up at you and winks. “Be nice to your mama, okay?” He looks back down at your belly and kisses your skin softly. “But we both love you.”
It’s impossible to hold back the few little tears that well up at that - at sweet, gentle, loving Marcus talking to the little nugget of a baby nestled inside you - and you quickly scrub them off your cheeks and sniffle the rest away before they can develop. “If we end up with a girl, you’re going to be wrapped around her tiny little finger the second she’s born,” you tease with a small grin.
“You mean I’m not already?” He asks, giving you a faux look of shock as he pulls your shirt back into place and picks up your cup to hand to you.
That makes you snort, and you shake your head at him when he grins at the sound. “You would be a cute girl dad. I envision having to beat the single Girl Scout moms away from you and lots of sparkly markers in cute animal coloring books.”
“Hard to beat them off of me if you are right there.” Marcus tells you, smirking slightly. “And I guess I might have to sport polished nails to work.”
“We’ll get you a cork board for your office.” You can even imagine where he would put it - the wall space above the small sofa in his office being empty and rather sad looking. “Ultrasound pictures, then baby pictures, then a blessed altar to finger-painting.”
He can see it, vividly, and he loves you for you. The fact that this is something that you want just as badly as he does is going to be a constant source of surprise and amazement. “I’m going to drive everyone on my team crazy.” He tells you with a grin.
“There’s only one thing that’s weighing on me a little.” It wasn’t the first or even tenth thing you thought of, but once you had, it wouldn’t go away. “I want to tell my dad in person.”
Marcus chews on his lip, sure that your father would not be happy with the circumstances. He couldn't blame the man for that. He wasn't exactly thrilled by the way that all of this was happening. "Do you want to go visit him, or fly him out here?" He asks softly, reaching for your hand in support. Whatever you wanted to do, he was going to stand by you.
"Trying to convince my father to spend a few days away from the farm for any reason besides the world ending is a pretty impossible endeavor." Your fingers curl around Marcus's, silently thanking him for unquestioning support. "Plus, I'm not too keen on him meeting Amanda. So I'd rather go back home for a few days after we see a doctor and know for sure. But baby..." Squeezing his fingers in yours, you're fairly certain you know how he's going to react, but the offer is important to you. "You don't have to come. He'll love you, but I completely understand if meeting my dad is a layer of stress that is just a little too high right now."
He shakes his head, frowning slightly. "No, absolutely not." Marcus tells you firmly. "I am not going to let you do that alone." He brings your hand up again before he abandons that reflexive move and leans in to kiss you. "I want to meet your dad and tell him that I absolutely will do right by you and our baby."
Thank God he seems to be okay sharing kisses again, because that comfort is sorely needed right now. The more the idea of being pregnant sinks in, the more excited it makes you. "It'll mean having to deal with another ex," you remind him gently. "Erik practically lives on the farm these days."
Shrugging, Marcus sends you a look. "Baby, you have been dealing with the Wicked Witch of the West for two months." He reminds you. "I think I can stand a weekend with the high school sweetheart." The fact that dad approves of your ex does make him a little nervous, plus all the shit with Amanda, but he knows at the end of the day it's your life and you are going to be with who you want to be with.
"Honestly, when it comes to my dad, it's pretty simple." With as horrible as you've been feeling, the soup bowl that Marcus has set into your empty hands is a welcome choice and you sip the broth gratefully. "Just call him 'sir' until he tells you to call him Jim and laugh at his jokes. He's over being a shotgun daddy." You smirk at him, more than a little pleased with himself. "I'm a better shot than him anyway."
He gives a small bark of a laugh and cocks an eyebrow at you. "I'll keep that in mind." He playfully tugs at the loosened collar of his dress shirt. His coat and tie had already been discarded before you had ever come back inside. "Run when the shotgun is waved. Got it."
“Amanda should be very glad that I don’t carry,” you grumble, knowing the number of times she has pissed you off enough to want to go target shooting is higher than you’re proud of.
"I would prefer that you not deliver our baby while you are handcuffed to a bed in a prison ward." He muses. "Although I don't know if a jury would convict you."
You snicker, trying to imagine any jilted lover in the world siding with her. “I’m being a good girl,” you promise him soundly.
He groans at that, cock twitching in his pants and he shoots you a slightly unhappy look. "Don't tease." He whines.
“Wow, just the words? Seriously?” Arching one very impressed eyebrow at him, you just smile softly and inch away from him slightly on the couch to remove further temptation. “I’ll just file that knowledge away for later.”
Marcus blows out a pained sigh. "Amanda needs to sign the fucking papers." He moans, closing his eyes and making a note to call his lawyers.
“We’re okay, love.” It’s inevitable that things are going to get worse before they get better. As soon as she finds out you’re pregnant, Amanda is going to open her wallet expectantly.
"You tell me the moment that changes, baby." He tells you seriously, very aware that this is trying for you.
“Right now, I’m just thinking about which things to move in first.” Offering him a soothing smile, you go back to sipping on your soup for a moment. “Do you want to start tonight? Or is that too soon?”
"Whenever you want." He bites his lip and sends you a wince. "Do you want to move your furniture in or no?" He wants you to bring whatever you want over but the only place to put it is the spare bedroom and he doesn't want Amanda to get too comfortable. He's even taken to locking his bedroom door when he's not home so she can't snoop through his things or use his bed.
“I was thinking we could sell it?” In another universe, everything would just go into the second bedroom, but you would honestly rather sell the bed your baby was conceived in than let Amanda sleep in it. “After all…that second bedroom is going to be a nursery soon, right? And a nursery doesn’t need a queen bed.”
"We can always put it in storage?" He suggests, knowing that he would pay for a storage unit. "It can go into a third bedroom when we find a bigger house."
“We could do that.” The realization that it is, actually, the bed your baby was conceived in makes you never ever want to give it up based purely on sentimental reasons. “Most of the other furniture either isn’t mine or it’s stuff that I don’t mind just giving to Naomi. My stuff is just the bedroom set, my desk and office chair, and my reading chair.”
He nods and gives you a smile. "Mainly your clothes then." He hums. "I say we start moving things over tonight. I want to sleep next to you and hold you tonight."
“And every different kind of drinking glass and kitchen toy under the sun.” You remind him. No matter what other job you’ve had, you’ve worked at Crate & Barrel for ten years - and that’s a hell of a lot of employee discount purchases made over the years. “I’m going to call work in the morning and tell them I’m taking off until I can see a doctor. That will give us a few days to move things and make an appointment.”
"You are not lifting anything heavy." Marcus warns you. "I'll take off tomorrow too." He decides, knowing how stubborn you can be. "I need it after dealing with her and the lawyers today."
“Are you going to let this farm bitch ripped body go to waste?” You grin at him, thinking of the silly video he had sent you the other day. “I know I’m pregnant, but I can carry clothes and kitchen pans.”
“No, I know you can.” Marcus huffs and rolls his eyes. “But I’m pretty sure you would move your reading chair over without asking for help if I wasn’t around.” He lifts a brow and dares you to deny it.
“I can and I would.” And that face makes you grin even at the look of clear disapproval on his face. “But I won’t. Because I know you would worry.”
“You are just already under so much emotional stress with everything.” He knows that Amanda has been getting under your skin. Even if you have been trying to hide it from him. “I just don’t want you to do anything that can hurt yourself or the baby.” He holds his hand up before you can argue the finer points of female fragility and the very real truth that you are stronger than men. He has no problem conceding that point, but- “You’ve been sick for days, baby. You aren’t exactly in fighting, furniture moving, form right now.” He reminds you softly.
“Yeah, but I’m not actually sick,” you argue, despite feeling like relative shit except for the minute and a half you were kissing him earlier. “It’s just the Pike-ette making their presence known. I can handle that.” Under his complete glower, you huff slightly. “I don’t want you feeling like you need to protect me now.”
He huffs right back at you and rolls his eyes. “In what reality did you think that wasn’t going to happen?” He asks you sarcastically.
“I know, I know.” He is a caretaker by nature. Nurturing and loving and protective. “But if I’m stressed, I know you are. And you’re going to wear yourself out in no time if you try to do everything for me.”
“I won’t try to do everything.” He compromises, knowing you are right. “But I feel better today than I have in days being able to take care of you.”
“I didn’t want you to get sick,” you rationalize.
“I know and I love you for it, but I’m a big boy.” He huffs.
You can’t help it, bursting out into a dirty chuckle and shamelessly adding: “Yeah, you are.”
“Oh fuck.” Marcus groans, that hard on he’s been trying to control coming back quickly and making him reach down to adjust again. “Careful. The last time you took it, you got pregnant.” He murmurs, a little smug at that knowledge.
“And what?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Your magic sperm is going to give me twins if we have sex again?”
“At this point, I’d believe it.” He chuckles. “Wouldn’t that be a hell of a story?”
“Father with magic sperm gets mother pregnant twice at the same time! Twins born seven weeks apart!” You quote the headlines with a giggle.
He can’t help but laugh and shake his head at your goofiness. After a moment, he goes silent and gives you a serious look. “You know she’s going to be furious, right?” He doesn’t give a damn what Amanda actually thinks but he knows she will be vicious towards you.
“Yeah.” That was the first thing you had thought of. How pissed off your not-boyfriend’s not-ex-wife would be. And had had a tiny breakdown in the garden about how unfair it was that she was already ruining something else happy before it could be real. “She is. Which is why I think we should look over the wording of the trust to see if it mentions your firstborn’s mother anywhere. She’ll jump on the legalities of being a stepmother if it benefits her.” The idea of her having anything to do with your baby makes your skin crawl, but it’s a very real possibility that she might still be around when they’re born.
He nods. “It says nothing about being married or the state of union when I have a child. But I will have the lawyers double check it.” He sets his plate down and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “I just don’t want her getting to you. She will see this as losing her hold on me. Not that she’s had one for nine months.”
“How about I’ll try not to let her get to me any extra?” You wouldn’t lie and tell him you were unaffected, or that everything would be easy. You and Marcus don’t lie to each other. “She’s going to do lots of little things to get to me, once I’ve moved in. If she even remembers any of the little bullshit things from when we were dating, it’s all going to come out again.”
“I know.” He sighs and his other hand goes to your stomach protectively. “I’m going to offer to get her a hotel room.” He tells you. “Pay for it. It would be worth it to get her out.”
“I’ll pay for it,” you grumble, knowing you can’t afford to do any such thing but just saying it demonstrates how badly you want her out.
“No, she’s my ex-wife and I’ll pay to get her out of my house.” He murmurs, leaning in and nuzzling your cheek. “Or we just start having sex in the living room.” He jokes.
“If I thought you wouldn’t instantly regret that decision, we would be having sex in this living room.” You brush a few strands of wild hair back into place by his ear. “We’ll make it work, love. There’s more at stake than just us now.”
He sighs, knowing that he’s also put stress on you with his knee-jerk reaction to this entire situation. He’s not like his father. He’s not keeping you some dirty little secret and pretending to be with Amanda. “Welllllll, according to our former President…oral sex isn’t sexual relations.” He murmurs.
“Are we really leaning into Clinton logic to justify fooling around?” That previously raised eyebrow quirks back in his direction. “Because I’m not sure if that’s weird, or genius.”
“I’m trying here.” He whines, pouting at you. “It’s hard to undo thirty some odd years of morally righteous beliefs.”
“And you don’t have to change anything for me.” You remind him. “But the minute you decide that you’re okay with a little more physical activity, I will be on my fucking knees in a heartbeat.” You’re still a little crankier than you probably should be about the fact that you never got to give him a blowjob, but the time will come eventually.
“Oh no baby.” He shakes his head and decides that he’s done trying to keep himself away from you completely. “I was thinking more of making the future mother of my child cum on my tongue.” He whispers. “I don’t care about a blowjob.”
“But—” You positively pout at him.
“But.” He teases, taking the soup from your hand and setting it down on the coffee table before he shifts up to his knees and hovers over you. “You don’t want to cum on my tongue, beautiful?” He asks, sliding his hands up your thighs. “I’ve dreamed about tasting you again.”
“Okay, I’m really not one to look a gift horse in the mouth usually…” Your breathing has run shallow all in an instant, realizing Marcus is both dead serious and ready to act right now. “But…are you sure?
Self-doubt has him pulling back, concerned on his face. “I—”
Your hands reach out, pulling him close to press a gentle kiss to his lips while you hug him. “I’m not asking you to change who you are, baby. And I’m not rejecting you. I just don’t want to do something you’ll regret.” It’s all so, so complicated, and you could straight out slaughter everyone in his entire life who has ever made him doubt his self-worth because of their own selfishness. “If you tell me you’re okay with having a physical relationship again, I won’t say another word.”
He sighs, leaning into you and pressing his forehead against yours. “I know, and you don’t know how much that means to me.” He promises you. He pulls away and sits back, knowing that he needs to talk to you.
“Maybe we can talk about it?” You hate this back-and-forth quality tonight, but there is a lot more than just you and him on the line now.
He sits back and nods, sighing and running his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I know— I know it's not fair to you." He gives you an apologetic look. "I must seem like I'm blowing hot and cold."
“It seems like you’re frustrated,” you admit, hating that something which by its nature should be pleasurable is a source of stress for him. “And I’m hoping we can figure out a better way of approaching it.”
"I've been trying to tell myself that I'm rationalizing." He admits, taking your hand in his and turning so that you have his full attention. "That I'm trying to justify wanting you. But— I'm realizing I don't have to justify it. I am supposed to be divorced. I'm supposed to be free to be with the woman I love, and it doesn't make my feelings for you any less real because my future is being held hostage by Amanda."
“So,” with his hand in yours, you abandon your dinner one more time. Food can be reheated; this conversation should not wait any longer. “You’ve been frustrated by the fact that you want me? By the fact that you can’t shut it off, because it’s not right?” Dear god, all you want is to understand. Maybe you should have paid more attention in intro psychology class.
"No." He shakes his head, frowning at himself and he wonders if he even understands it. "I'm frustrated that I'm in this fucking mess." He huffs. "I've done everything I possibly could to be a good man. I gave her what she wanted, loved her, never cheated on her, didn't even curse her out when I found out she was cheating on me, gave her the divorce she craved, gave her the house and cars. And now..."
“So it sounds like, by your definition of being a good man,” which you don’t doubt for a second, but good and bad is all about perception and the perceiver. “You are a good man.”
"I know but, I'm so fucking scared of being the man my father is." He admits quietly, the real problem that he had. The man who made him could be so callous about things, who was to say Marcus couldn't? "But I know that this isn't the same situation as my father."
“You’re working really hard not to be like him, and it kind of put us in the opposite situation.” Treading ever so lightly, you give Marcus’s hand a squeeze. “We love each other so much and we’re doing everything we can to give our relationship a deep, emotional base that we’re in great shape on that front. But…we’re going to have a baby and the only things I know about you sexually come from the one night that baby was made.” It makes your heart ache to say it, but you’ve both gone so far out of your way not to talk about sex at all that you don’t even know what side of the bed he prefers to sleep on.
"Shit." Marcus scrubs his free hand over his face and gives you a wounded look. Not having really thought about it in those terms. "I'm sorry, baby." He leans forward and cups your cheek. "I've been fucking this up. I just— I was so rattled by the fact that I wasn't divorced and then her stating that I had cheated..." He closes his eyes and gives another small sigh. "Forgive me?"
“Honey there’s nothing to forgive.” You lean into him, keeping your hands gently gliding up and down his arms. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I just think…maybe there’s more than one way to not be your dad.”
"I did mention that I could be stubborn, right?" He jokes lightly, giving you a grin.
“I think I did notice that, yeah.” You wrinkle your nose at him, sending his grin right back. This talking is so much of what you have been doing for the last few weeks, but so focused on the things that you have been too afraid to talk about. It’s sorely needed, and you’re relieved that you were able to dig in with him.
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri
SO: @spideysimpossiblegirl @inspiringmelodrama @pedrilf @thevoiceinyourheadx @badassbaker @rebel-fanfare @canadianmaebe @amneris21 @kulicny @nagassia @bruxasolta @elfwriter1088 @mrsparknuts @graciexmarvel
My Masterlist!
#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Marcus Pike#Marcus Pike x reader#Marcus Pike x you#Marcus Pike x female reader#Agent Marcus Pike#The Mentalist#The Mentalist fanfic#tw divorce#tw abusive partner#tw unplanned pregnancy#pregnant reader
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Wanting to stalk/kidnap/kill your beloved is a normal 'young love' thing?
Obviously wanting these 3 things is not normal. Because if someone 'says' this, it should ideally BE taken seriously❗ So yes I'm all for NOT ignoring this.
But still, in your case, I'm considering 8 things:-
Hormonal effect: everyone's feeling extremes during this time, now if u r someone aware of the world, obviously your extreme isn't going to be drawing a moustace on her face while she's sleeping, realistically, it's going to be smth like that only. I think this point is rightfully suppressed in the society to keep the kids on their best. But still, it's smth very much there, cuz this transition is usually tough n almost everyone's being stupid.
Mind & reality: technology- blurring of the line bw the outside n the inside (mind) world [Just as how brain can't differentiate bw fantasies & past. It just stores it in the memory] blog being an extension of the mind , anons as just diff 'voices' in the 'head', I say this cuz I've myself gone to similar experiences. I've 2-3x done things over a period of time, anonymously, it gives us the best sense of freedom so we end up doing things we wouldn't normally say/do. Like seriously I'd never ever do that shit, in reality, with all of my senses & my 'name'. And now, "which one is the 'real' me" is smth which can be argued.. But still I like to think the latter w the belief that the line should never be blurred bw the outside n the inside. Like eg, I'd just simply walk off the topic (offline) or refrain from msging this long (online), if I wasn't anonymous.
Mind-Coping mechanism/comfort zone: your mind is supposed to be the ONLY place in the world, free of judgements & w full freedom. Think of the freakiest or the kinkiest shit u come up with.. But, it should all stay in the head only.
Transition to adulthood: All these new '-ve' extreme emotions, I like to call them 'adulthood'.. ½ or ⅓rd of the married couples do wish death upon their spouses on certain events, but they don't actually… Similarly, we do wish for the absolute worst shit sometimes for the person we envy/dislike.. But doesn't mean we won't realise/control our emotions n ultimately end up treating the innocent person as crap.
Emotions x logic/perfection: easier to judge others thru a 3rd person's pov, but not ourselves, don't expect yourself to be 'likeable', 'logical' or perfect when u are really feeling stuff.. Just try your best to control it, n forgive if u can't.. And move on w life. You're not supposed to dwell on stuff.
Normalising of souvenirs: no. of souvenirs/'shrines'/memories we keep actively + how much we interact w them… is directly proportional to.. the effect it has on us. You don't think about the food u ate last month, unless u start maintaining a food log, n condition yourself over it.. I've literally bent my entire social life acc to this, cuz I don't wanna dwell on stuff. You invite the guilt n precursors to further emotions.
First love: first time feeling stuff, it being the START to your love life, nothing to compare, blah blah blah, u dvp your.. How should I put this.. 'mate' value thru your 1st love, 1st loves are supposed to be memorable
Emotions=helplessness & forgiveness: you felt too strong, for too long, it wasn't reciprocated, so.. Obviously, the bitterness. I mean seriously, you're just WANTING to kill/kidnap her in your headspace.
So yeah i do think YOU are fine for JUST WANTING to kill/kidnap/stalk your girl.
🌬..
I see your point, I admire your dedication in writing all this out. I don't think that everyone's situation (or possibly mine) can completely be attributed to these natural factors, especially seeing how conditions like obsessive love disorder (O.L.D.) and relationship OCD exist, but this does provide a good reference to possible causes. Normalcy is something of a sliding scale, isn't it.
#your yandere#aidoneus asks#🌬️ anon#Yes... “just wanting”... I have never stalked my darling in real life before among other things...
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Festival Summary
Hey everyone! I just want to say thank you for tuning into my blog posts over the past month. This is unfortunately my last post about the 2024 Sundance Film Festival. Before going into detail about what I learned during this trip, I want to share with you all of the films I went to see:
Eno (Premiere)
I loved seeing Eno’s creative process. I noticed that this premiere had an overall positive energy to the film.
I was also able to ask Brian Eno a question at the end that is up on Hollywood Deadline's social media, which was super cool!
The Greatest Night in Pop
Nearly made me cry hearing the iconic voices of the artists that worked on “We are the World.”
Freaky Tales
Tied for the best film I saw. I loved how four different stories all became intertwined at the end of the movie.
A Different Man
Was an odd film, however, I enjoyed it a lot. The film would trigger several different emotional responses from the audience.
Krazy House
This is easily my second favorite film of the festival. It is so serious yet unserious at the same time. I almost cried from laughing so hard.
Being (The Digital Griot)
It was interesting to engage with other people as an AI robot led our discussion. People felt like they were being listened to, and I find that to be significant.
Eno (again)
I still absolutely loved my second time seeing Eno. This film was a lot more funny than when I saw the premiere.
I Saw the TV Glow
Although odd, I found the film to be very aesthetically pleasing and beautiful.
Short Film Program 2
Mother Tongue
Merman
Pasture Prime
The Lost Season
Thirstygirl
The Masterpiece
I found these films to be funny and beautiful with different animation styles, and shots to convey tense situations for actors, actresses, and narrators to portray in the films.
As We Speak
This is also tied for the best film I watched at the festival. As a rap beat producer, I can relate to this film to an extent because I participate in the craft that is currently being used against its artists by prosecutors and police.
Talks:
Mental Health in Film
We engaged in a lot of deep conversations which helped me become comfortable with my peers.
Latino Filmmakers
I was able to attend a networking event with Latino Filmmakers at Sundance. I was able to meet a lot of very nice and welcoming people who were eager to share their experiences in the film industry.
After attending the festival, I have learned first hand that our textbook author’s claim regarding how indie film cannot be defined simply in economic, stylistic or thematic terms, is accurate, especially when the author says that indie film needs to be understood culturally. When attending Sundance, the films I watched were anything but similar to Hollywood films. Films like As We Speak focused a lot on issues that mainly impacted the Hip-Hop/Rap community and systemic issues that would unfairly convict black artists using their own lyrics as evidence in court. Other films like Freaky Tales focused on a different form of storytelling where the entire story unfolded after the first three sections of the film. Other films are completely experimenting with different types of form. Eno for example utilizes an AI software developed by the creators of the film to jumble tons of archival footage taken of Brian Eno. In fact there is still a ton of footage that still has not been seen by the general public despite the film being screened several times at Sundance.
However, what I learned to be most important after visiting the Sundance Film Festival is networking. There are hundreds, even thousands, of people who pursue or are interested in something related to film, which was extremely helpful for a film student like myself. I was super stressed about not knowing my path for this upcoming summer and what I would be doing with my time. I am extremely grateful to say that I was able to collect the contact information of multiple people already in the film industry and others who are close with people in the film industry. With that being said, I also want to say how important it is to talk to people. When in Sundance, you have several opportunities to talk to people. It all starts with a simple compliment or an introduction of yourself. You never know who you could be sitting next to on the bus or in the theater. Although it is possible to experience Sundance without talking to people, it defeats the purpose of the festival as it is a place to discuss film and find people to collaborate with. So if any of you decide to attend Sundance, take advantage of all the different mixers or other discussion events.
Once again, thank you all for reading. I hope my blog posts and advice have given you some inspiration to check out some of these films or maybe even consider attending the festival. Sundance was truly a unique environment that gave me experiences that I am extremely thankful for.
Until next time,
-Jackson Willhoit
#sundance#indie#sundancefilmfestival#indiefilm#film#film review#sundance 2024#filmfestival#independent film
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I know nobody follows this blog but if you do stumble upon this, I want to let you know it gets better. I got my own self out of this, my eating disorder took away 5 years of my life, the last 2 years I spent in complete numbness and depression, I couldnt see the next day and I was in a constant loop of promising myself getting better and breaking that promise even when i hated dishonest people. I hated myself. I lost friends, almost failed school and was all alone. I was so, so fucking lost. I spent the whole summer drinking, messing up relationships, not taking my meds or visiting my doctor after I was let out of rehab 3 times. However I did reach my breaking point where i felt my heart stopping after intense sprinting, I was crying and calling my psychiatrist not knowing what to do. That was 3 days from my 18 birthday, and it that moment something just happened. I was brought into hospital, kept there filled with fluids to get my electrolytes stabilized. They checked my heart stats all night. I was told i could never have my heart back the way it was, but at least I would live. For some goddamn reason that was the wakeup call i needed. I started to try to get better. After a week I had to go to hospital yet again because of the constant panic attacks I felt like dying all over again and I was so sure the doctors missed something and I would be a goner. Turns out after 2 years of not drinking medication and being under constant stress warps into vegetative dystonia. I was sent to emergency psychiatrist which turned out to be my past doctor. She saw the desperation in getting better and overcoming the fear of death. She put me back on antidepressants. The first weeks were rough, I couldnt eat too much food and not get sick, I still jad bad days where I threw up but not always on my own accord, my stomach was just used to be completely empty all the time or being overfed and being taken all that food away again. The meds started to work after a month, since i didnt constantly throw them up. I was still afraid of weight gain, but refrained from using scales, it took a lot of willpower to not weigh myself 8 times a day but i did manage. I took up trying out new foods and recipes and learnt to make asian kitchen since i felt like that was my safe heaven i could confine in, more healthy food. I had two friends. One I had fixed my relationship with and the other was just always there for me. I honestly believe I would not have made it out fully without them, the best distraction from the bad thoughts I could ask for. I started to feel so much better in the last 2 months. I could finally eat foods and not think too much about it. When I went to my doctors I cried from happiness while telling her I can just eat something I want and not overthink it to the last detail. My weight also stabilized and I am at a healthy weight and I do not hate it. I also finally managed to finish school and get into college political studies, which is something I really want to do. I also started working and have become less anxious around new people. Sure I am still at home person, but it is so much easier to exist. This summer I also met some amazing people and honestly, life could not be better. Of course I will have my ups and downs, but I am so so so proud of myself and how far I have come, I wish my 13 year old self knew better. Everyone is able to be strong even if you do not believe yourself, some day it will happen and you will see life differently, just dont give up on your mind and body.
Sincerely Itans, recovery suck ass but it has lovely results, love yourselves.
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Life part 2…and inspiration
“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.” – Bernard M. Baruch
Where to start? Given how much time I have spent inside my own head over the past 4 months, if only there were some device that could record your thoughts and churn them into meaningful text. I’ve sat down to start this blog update 3 times over the last week, and it’s a common pattern. I start, and then am somehow distracted. Add into this the super long days that seem to have developed in the USA, and the daily battles with the weather, and finally, the overall accumulative fatigue of 4 months of cycling, typing on an iPhone becomes a challenge.
I’ve had so many amazing thoughts as I’ve pedalled highways and byways, but ask me to recall them, now that I am just one day and one ride away from the end of this journey, and you’ll be lucky if I recount even 2%. Instead you’ll get what’s most present in my head. Sorry about that!
When I’ve read books of adventurers, particularly those that I mentioned right at the beginning of this journey, the majority I recall talk less about emotion and more about logistics or achievement, and less about what happened on the way, who they met, how they felt. I went to see Rannulph Fiennes before I came out, and was struck how much he talked factually and without reference to emotion. Mark Beaumont too. Ben Fogle is much more emotional, and to some extent, Anna McNuff. I have never really understood this. My dad wrote about his incredible stories too, but again, no emotion. So, having now done my own relative adventure and being able to reflect, I can see that for me, as I have become more focussed and also more tired as the days have turned into months, far from being more emotional, I have almost become a machine, where emotion could be seen as disruptive. Don’t think too deeply about things as you risk becoming mentally weaker and therefore less focussed or able to complete what you set out to achieve, either because you made a mistake or the emotions are so great you lose sight of the goal. It’s like my body has taken over and my mind has switched off. It’s been at least a month since I’ve been able to do a Wordle 😆
Apart from being focused and completely zombiefied at the end of each day, it’s perhaps then easy to see why I’ve not been able to sit down and write and share with you so much of the latter stages of my journey. And today, suddenly, a shorter day, an epiphany that tomorrow, it’s all over, and the emotional floodgates have opened up.
A few days ago, when it was agreed with my dad that he wasn’t going to make it to Vancouver, I felt sad, that the direction and end had no point, and that had I known this from the outset, before I got on the plane to Argentina, I would have planned things very differently. I would have only ridden in South America for a start, and the USA, although my original dream of cross continent, hatched back in 2006/7 when I first got into cycling, would have remained just that: a dream. I also didn’t plan to ride at all from coast to coast on this trip, rather, had planned to ride just the Rockies. But fate intervened and a tummy bug, cold and three cancelled flights accompanied by the added hassle of multiple Covid tests meant I instead opted to abandon my flight to San Diego and ride an additional 1700 miles (as it eventually turned out to be) from Fort Lauderdale. It only occurred to me today that I had accidentally achieved my coast to coast dream, USA end to end.
It seems crazy to me now writing that I left you all in Moab, after a hideous day’s riding, ready to ride Arches National Park. I stayed at a hostel there and met some fascinating people, who seemed happy with life and not at all materialistic. Sunny Jam, a rock climber, funded his passion through a long time ago computer program he had written for Microsoft, and off the back of that was still contracted by them to do pieces of work. Then Brian: he is basically an explorer in his 60s, trying to make his way back to Asia but also looking to establish a permanent home away from New York. His hobby? Cartography! Then there were the women from Alaska with purple hair, who whilst they fulfilled a dream of coming to Utah, decided it was way too dusty and hot ans just wanted to get home. And a young couple of serious trekkers, who’d previously hiked the Pacific Crest Trail and now the Arizona Trail. Kit from Rutland and her boyfriend Once from New Zealand.
Whilst I also fulfilled a dream of cycling through Arches (other than Colorado Springs the only other fixed place on my original plan when the USA became real), I found the ride into Moab more breathtaking. I feel now that I’m glad that I didn’t at this time see all the other national parks I’d planned to see. And the reason? It’s all laid out for you and full of people: look here, drive there, come and see and do what everyone else is doing and see what you’ve seen in books and magazines such as National Geographic. Nothing wrong with that, but for me, day after day, the wonders that came my way were the ones I didn’t know were coming. To name a few, whilst riding into Moab was one, riding out of Moab and into the desert was another. The route 93 after passing through the gates of hell, and being blown clean off my bike near Atomic City, between Mackay and to North Forks was a cyclist’s dream: no cars and a stunningly beautiful valley lined with snow-capped mountains. The road that hugged Lake Couer D’Alene and the 50 mile cycle trail I found myself on that crossed a huge never ending watery landscape, and the pub at the far end “One Shot” with its lovely bar maid who was just the sweetest in her dungarees and two little knotted buns. I ended up like for South America, in towns that no one, not even Americans, knew existed and came across some real gems and horrors for beds for the night, in total, 38 paid for and 3 where I was hosted.
I am so lucky to have had friends and acquaintances that have become friends to meet up in the second half of the USA. Larry and his wife Judy are two such people, and through them, I got to meet 3 more: Celeste, Dixie and Jeff. Larry should be an inspiration to every ageing person from 21 and above. At 78, he is a local hero, and has not lost a time trial he’s entered since picking up a road bike in 2006. Celeste is equally inspiring. At 62, she kicks probably everyone’s backside from aged 30 and up, male or female. Jeff, cycling now for four years, looks 20 years younger than his 65 years. Dixie surprised the hell out of me when she told me having just completed the Ironman world champs, was a grandmother and 57. Judy, just the kindest soul you could meet, supports Larry wholeheartedly, and dropped him off and picked him up an hour away from home, two days running so he could ride with me as I passed through. She also sewed up my failing cycling top, gave me a bed and dinner, and would have given me some of her amazing pottery had it been practical to carry it. Of all the dogs I met from southern Argentina to this point, I also fell in love with their son’s dog, Indy. Although I was a bit naughty in doing so, I let Indy sleep on the bed with me, and gave him cuddles all night. He was apparently heard whimpering the next night when I didn’t reappear…
I had a couple of run ins. The first mentioned already was the wind. Even with all the training I had in Patagonia with cross winds like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and the wind the whole way across the USA, one almighty gust took me clean off my bike. It wasn’t much fun, but what probably wound me up more than the bruises and pain I felt over the next few days was that at the time I fell, two motorists travelling in both directions saw me fall. I was 50 miles west or east from anything, and neither slowed down or stopped to see if I was ok. Day after day, most of the 41 stages of the USA, the wind was against me in a big way. I learnt that April and May are typically the windiest months in the USA, and this April and May are of course, the windiest on record.
The second run in I had was with a road construction boss which nearly led to an encounter with the county sheriff. Misinformed traffic controller sent me up the road, not knowing what to do with me, where I was blocked a mile later by boss woman in her pick up truck. She told me I had no choice but to put my bike in her pickup truck and she would have to take me 8 miles up the road where the roadworks ended and I could ride again. I tried reasoning with her could I walk on the grass, ride on the hard shoulder, walk on the hard shoulder, ride when the traffic wasn’t coming. She gave way to nothing. I did actually say: “what are you going to do, arrest me?” To that she picked up her phone and called the sheriff and said that might just happen. Whilst waiting for the sheriff to arrive, I did some map research and found an old highway, no longer maintained, running parallel to the new highway. If someone had just said this in the first instance, I’d have taken that route. I legged it, swearing at boss woman inaudibly, and went speedily on my merry way down the secret old Sunrise Highway. I was soooo tempted to just see what happened when the sheriff arrived. It was a very close call.
What I also learnt from my North American adventure is that just as sure as day follows night, a good day would follow a crappy day. The rewards typically came in the form of breathtaking scenery but ever so occasionally, the weather would come out to play. Most of the time from Colorado onwards I rode in full winter gear. But just as the closing days arrived, I was back in heaven in the shape of the North Cascades of Washington. Having been here before, I knew it had the potential of being great, but I got lucky, and the sun shone as I took a gamble and rode 141 miles from Brewster to Marblemount in a day, over Washington Pass, taking full advantage of a sunny warmish day. Although I’d been through the route in 2018, I feel like I must have had my eyes shut as I saw so much more this time. The beauty this time was probably accentuated by the snow accumulation on the peaks and at the sides of the road, over 6ft high, glistening in the sunshine, but still not melting. The pass had only been open a week so my timing was perfect. Descending to the west, as the road darted left and right, I’d hit sudden pockets of freezing air, which reminded me that although making it my 4th longest day distance wise and 2nd time wise, it was the right decision to go long, as the following day, today had been colder and wetter.
Reflections:
I purposely split south and North America as if they were different adventures, as getting my head round an ever increasing number of “stages” (days riding north) felt a little overwhelming. But mentally, I have to remind myself other than the small break moving from South to North America (6 days of no cycling, getting over a tummy bug and a cold, and waiting 5 days at airports), it is one adventure, for which I’ve covered around 8,500 miles, and ascended a total of around 110,000 metres. That is more elevation and distance than I’ve covered in any given 12 months of cycling.
Although the cortisone has finally worn off on my right knee, I am truly amazed at how effective it has been and that my knee and back and whole body held out. Mentally, there’s never been a point where I’ve thought “I just can’t do this” or even “I don’t want to do this”. There’s been plenty of times I’ve cursed at the weather, mainly the wind. I’ve got some war wounds. My thumbs are so cracked I’ve had to wear plasters when I’ve had them and they hurt at night. If it’s frost nip or a chillblain, my smallest right toe is soooo sore, I didn’t know what was going on with it. It still is, hurts to walk and hurts when I sleep. My bottom lip seems to have a life of its own, despite copious lip salve, I think exposure all day every day to all elements means I now have “adventurers lip” as I’m calling it…it’s tough and difficult to smile properly 😆. Although my back is stiff, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be, although overall I need a bloody good massage. Even the tendons on my elbows are a little sore from being in a constant position of holding my bars and wearing my backpack. I may have had covid, which I think I picked up at a hostel, but given I spend pretty much all of my time in isolation, I don’t think I passed it on and what I had was mild, but enough to take me down energy wise for a few days. Getting tested when you’re a traveller on the move isn’t easy, and I did try. My pace has slowed, or it feels as if it has, but whilst I’m sure some of that is fatigue, I have got very lazy in inflating my tyres, and I think whilst I thought the clip on bars would be great, I didn’t use them as much as I hoped. The final bit that really will be grateful for a few days off the bike is my backside! Probably not in the areas you might think but I’ll leave that to your furtive imaginations.
In terms of kit, I’m on my 5th set of tyres, 4th set of cycle shorts, I’ve used the same cycling top since February 8th, I’ve worn the same trousers EVERY day since I left the UK on 21st January, I’m on my 3rd T-shirt (would have been second but left one in a hotel and sent one home with Mark). I’m on my 3rd and 4th pairs of knickers, second pair of socks and treated myself to a new pair of socks as my extra pair in Colorado Springs. I’ve thrown away a pair of thin cycling gloves, borrowed Gary’s amazing Rapha Merino hoodie and lobster gloves, on to my second pair of leg warmers (I lost one late in Peru), bought some overshoes and another pair of gloves. I also bought a new sports crop top just for a change. I’ve replaced one set of brake pads, one chain, damaged one brake lever and hood when I came off in the wind. I’m looking forward to binning the handlebar bag! Oh yes, I’m on my fourth pair of cycling shoes and second pair of trainers. I had 19 punctures, 13 in South America and the rest in USA (so far but the way I’m riding, I’m expecting at least one more tomorrow). Most puncture-ridden state: Utah. Windiest state: Kansas. Wettest state: Alabama. Warmest state: Florida.
People have asked me what have been my most memorable experiences. It’s so hard to answer this question, but I’ll try and put the words or places all into one long sentence:
Dogs, Gary, Linda, Thomas, Jeff, Elaine, Bill, Larry, Judy, Suzi, Lucia, Monica and Gustav, Edu, Gerardo, Penny, Joe, , Purmamarca, soaring condors, Patagonia, kindness of strangers, North Cascades, Moab, Route 93, Ruta 40, super rare tailwinds, The Ozarks, Peru. Being joined in my chorus of Movin on up as I sung and rode through Alabama.
All of the friends that weren’t here on the journey with me, but followed and encouraged me from beginning to end, I don’t know if you know how positively that helped me along, and kept me focused. I loved catching up with your comments and messages, and it is as much a lasting memory as the journey itself. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I genuinely hope that you did also get something from it, as well as being kind and thoughtful and supportive.
Finally, it’s time to get a bit cheesy. Throughout every second of every day, whenever I messaged or called, day or night, Mark has been there, waiting up until the small hours to make sure my tracker is still running and that I’m safe at the end of my day. He’s put me first every single time, and made Peru happen when I didn’t think it possible. How lucky am I? Hopefully when I get home, he will have a life again! Thank you Mark. What did I do to deserve you? What did you do wrong to get me? 🤣.
When I left for Argentina, life was quite challenging as far as it can be in our own various walks of life. I had big dental issues, my hair was falling out, I’d resigned from my job and finished on the same day I took my flight. On this journey, I was also trying to explore what I’d do next. I still don’t know! But I have people knocking on my door about positions that match my profile, so in that sense I’m very lucky! It’s fair to say that over 4 months, having stayed in around 110 different places of hospitality (hotels, motels, bed and breakfasts, homes and fire trucks), I’ve seen many examples of good and not so good hospitality, acts of kindness and how people live. This is all great as a long time ago I said I wanted to open a sporty bed and breakfast, doing sports and remedial massage, it needs a coffee shop that also sells food and importantly, ice cream and jelly beans, and it might also have a bike mechanic attached and a big friendly dog. There’s that and then what next in the way of challenges? Who knows?
Thank you for being part of my biggest adventure ever. It’s all there for the taking. 🥰
Just the finish line in Vancouver to go…fingers crossed! 🙏
Oh and music:
Track that always got me singing: Movin on up: Primal Scream
Track that always made me feel emotional: Transformation by Cinematic Orchestra.
(And Deacon Blue because they were the soundtrack to my first adventure aged 18/19)
My Winging it on Wheels playlist (on Spotify)
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1zLSJK85E9irLCIIEzmtrb?si=lKaPuQeXShSGQqdmfZNRsA
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movie night.
part 1 | part 2
pairings: bucky barnes x reader
synopsis: bucky invites you over to the compound to watch a movie, and things get a little heated.
word count: 1.3k
warnings: fluff, kissing, grinding with clothes on.
a/n: I wrote this like 2 months ago and completely forgot about it. I may turn this into a mini-series!
Y/F/M = your favorite movie!
!my blog and my fics are only for those who are 18 and older!
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It’s been 2 weeks since you and Bucky first met. Sam had taken you as a plus-one to one of Stark’s parties, being a childhood friend. Sam was introducing you to everyone when you reached him.
His black button-up shirt fit snugly on his muscled body. His long brown hair pushed back behind his ears; his pink lips curled around the beer bottle he was drinking from. He looked like a model.
Sam placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder as he introduced you, a smile forming as he sees the way Bucky is looking at you. “Bucky, this is y/n. Y/n, Bucky”.
Bucky set his drink on the table beside him before he reached out with his right hand to meet yours in a handshake. His blue eyes met yours and immediately a genuine smile crept across his face.
“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky”, you said with a smile. You tried to sound confident, which you had been the entire night, but looking into his eyes knocked the wind out of you.
“The pleasure’s all mine, doll”, he said as his left hand came to rest on top of yours, giving it a light squeeze before letting you go.
By the end of the night, you had exchanged phone numbers, and ever since then, you’ve texted every day, lightly flirting back and forth, meeting for coffee once or twice, but neither one of you had made a “move” yet.
You were sitting down to start on your work yesterday when Bucky called and asked if you would like to watch a movie with him in the compound using the screening room.
“Yeah, that sounds fun! Should I bring snacks?” You tried not to sound too excited, the thought of sitting next to him for well over an hour making your heart rate spike already.
“That’s okay, doll. We have plenty here. Just bring your pretty self. Tomorrow around 6?”
You blush at his simple compliment. “Sounds good. See you then, Bucky”.
Now, you’re sitting on a lavish couch, big enough to stretch your legs out in front of you, watching y/f/m on a big screen because “you pick the movie, doll, I’ll watch whatever you want”. He’s right next to you, just inches away. Your hand is resting next to your thigh, the back of your hand facing him.
Trying to keep your eyes on the screen in front of you instead of on his beautiful figure, you force yourself to pay attention to the movie instead of the scent of his cologne, or the warmth you can feel radiating off his body. As you’re thinking about not thinking of him, you feel the back of his flesh hand touch yours. You can feel your face heating up... Did he mean to do that?
His index finger moves slightly, rubbing against your own. You mimic his movement, rubbing your finger on his, you turn your hand palm up, his hand moves on top of yours, and suddenly you’re holding hands with Bucky Barnes.
Your heart is beating out of your chest, and unbeknownst to you, he can hear it. Your tummy is warm with affection and your mind is racing wondering what you should do next. Your eyes haven’t left the screen, you-
“Is this okay, doll?” Bucky looks at you, asking softly. You look at him, cheeks pink and eyes suddenly lost in his.
“I- yes. Sorry, it’s just- wow, your hand is so soft. I’m just nervous, this is fine, this is great” you smile, stumbling over your words, he’s got you this wound up and all he’s done is hold your hand.
He chuckles, looking at you with a hint of pity in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you nervous. I can give you some space if you want?”
Your eyes widen at his words. “No, Bucky, you’re fine. I like this”. You smile, trying not to sound too eager. “Okay doll. If that changes let me know, it’s okay.”
You don’t mean to be so worked up, but Bucky is the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life, and apparently, he’s interested in you.
After a little while, you’ve calmed down enough to really enjoy the moment, and decide to scoot closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder and moving your interlocked hands to rest on your thigh.
“Are you okay, doll?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned for your comfort.
“I’m perfect”. you reply, looking up at him and smiling softly. He looks down at you, his eyes dancing between your own and your lips. You know what’s coming and you have to mentally prepare yourself, because “no way is this happening to me”, you think to yourself.
Bucky’s metal hand slowly comes up to find your cheek, his eyes on yours, as he slowly rubs his cool thumb over your soft skin. Your intertwined hand squeezes his, almost as a signal that you’re okay with this, as he begins to move closer to you.
Finally, he presses his lips to yours. The feeling is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. You’re completely lost in his kiss, so tender and soft, but you can tell he’s holding back. You move your free hand to rest on his chest as you begin kissing him back, a little quicker, the warmth in your stomach quickly traveling lower and growing stronger.
His hand on your cheek moves to your throat, he’s not squeezing yet, just ghosting over your skin as if he’s holding himself back from taking you how he wants to.
You moan softly into the kiss, his tongue suddenly finding yours, dominating you with just his mouth as he kisses you harder but equally as passionately. You’re overwhelmed with the feeling in your core as you suddenly straddle him, bringing both your hands to his shoulders as you continue to kiss him with everything you have.
His hands find your waist, slowly you start to grind against him, desperately needing relief. He groans into the kiss, pushing you down against him. You can feel his hard member through his jeans, his hands squeezing you tight until suddenly he stops your movements. You break away from the kiss, looking at him with worry.
“Bucky, what’s wrong? I’m sorry-” You start to move off him, but his strong hands stop you and keep you in place.
“Nothing’s wrong, sweetness. I want you so bad right now, it’s killing me. But I really want to take you on a proper date before things go any further. Maybe it’s the old man in me... I’m sorry”. He looks at you, seeming genuinely sorry, almost expecting you to be upset.
“Bucky.. that’s so sweet. Of course, I’d love that too. You’re such a gentleman” you giggle, kissing his nose before moving from his lap to sit beside him, holding his hand again.
“Thank you for understanding, doll. I promise you’re going to get what you deserve.. just wanna take you somewhere nice first. Are you free this Friday?”
“I’m free any day of the week for you”, you smile at him.
“Perfect. It’s a date, then”. He smiles giddily, you both turn your attention back to the screen and find it easier to watch since the sexual tension has (mostly) dissipated.
At the end of the night, Bucky drives you home, holding your hand the whole way and walking you to your door like a gentleman.
“I had a nice time, y/n”. Bucky says with a soft smile, his flesh hand moving up to stroke your hair.
“I did too, Bucky. I’ll see you Friday”.
“Can’t wait”. He leans down and gives you a soft kiss on your lips before kissing your forehead and walking back to his car. He watches you get in before driving off, already excited about your proper date.
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7 Anti LO Asks
1. Do you know what really gets my blood boiling about this comic? Persephone and Demeter's relationship.
In the myths, Demeter and Persephone loved each other more than anything. Their reunion is so important - it marked the coming of spring and growth. A whole cult was dedicated to this for crying out loud. Yes, the myths were far from perfect, but the Persephone and Demeter myth showed the strength of a loving mother-daughter relationship with Demeter searching endlessly to find her child that was ripped away and had her innocence forcibly taken.
Now, RS is not the only author to make Demeter this over-bearing mother type in order to put more positivity onto the Hades-Persephone relationship. However, RS takes this trend to a whole new level - to the point where I would even consider it misogyny.
How is it, she takes this beautiful mother-daughter relationship and makes it out to be an abusive and controlling one, and then takes the Hades-Persephone relationship from a forceful one to a loving, perfect relationship with no problems? How is it ok to ruin one relationship to elevate another?
I understand that many versions of the myth try to downplay Hades' actions, and even make it so Persephone actually falls in love with him and there is no rape. But it doesn't change that this relationship was problematic, and meant to represent the loss of innocence.
Then fans have the gall to claim this comic is feminist and then claim on top of that that Demeter and Persephone's relationship was the same in the myth? These fans clearly don't know the myths, and neither does RS.
Making Hades a good person is fine. Changing it up a bit to make Persephone's loss of innocence something else is also fine. But ruining Demeter and Persephone's relationship? Especially when Persephone has to spend half the year with her? So horrible.
2. im sorry, but rachel cant introduce KRONOS coming back and then dropping it for several episodes to focus on a stake-less trail and persephone not knowing what lingerie to seduce hades in. like thats too much of an earth shaking development and huge stake plot point to just ignore for months to focus instead on something as minor as hxp's relationship, which only points out a huge flaw: why is hxp's relationship so minor in this? isnt the whole point supposed to be about them?
3. I think LO completely dropped the ball over Hades’ characterization.
From the first ep I thought ok, this is good, we have some bones to see he’s not that lucky in love and is just tired and lonely, and while ignoring the creepy actions towards Persephone, I thought ok, Artemis hates him, Hestia hates, even Ares hates him, maybe once Persephone finally sees the underworld and probably gets to know him it’ll be a clever twist and they’ll be proven wrong. The underworld will turn out to be fair and just, the citizens will love Hades, he’ll be revealed to be a good leader and king and not like his brothers, it’ll be like everyone saying Hades of myth isn’t actually that bad, and it’ll help reinforce why this sweet and bubbly Persephone wants him, she sees the real him, not the mean rumors and assumptions, this is perfect.
And then it just didn’t happen. The exact opposite happened, actually.
We’re shown the LO underworld is cruel and unjust, where the poor dead are forced into slavery and Hades created a harsh class divide with him and him only on top, the citizens hate him, the underworld gods don’t trust him and openly seem ok if he’s taken out of power, he’s not a good leader and king and doesn’t even want the job yet keeps it for his own ego and grip of power m, and on top of it all he is just like his brothers, if not worse. He loves to get violent over any little slight against him, he hoards wealth and resources to enrich himself while his citizens starve and struggle to survive, he’s corrupt, he controls all the media and laws to bend to his will, sleeps with his brothers wife for centuries behind his back while claiming to be holier than thou, he has sex with his secretaries who are made dependent on him for any way to survive, and now he lusts after his barely legal intern who is also now dependent on him for her way to survive, and that’s only what I remember off the top of my head.
LO perfectly set up to prove Hades isn’t the devil or the false pop culture assumption that he’s evil and to show some actual facts from myth, and yet Rachel only ended up reinforcing exactly that and even making him even worse with her made up ideas, all while thinking having Persephone ignore or excuse it somehow makes it not bad or even a good thing. It’s honestly kind of impressive just how bad of writing that actually is.
4. Chapter 172 is not that interesting. It’s setup had me excited to see Hephaestus and Hera and learning more about echo, but it’s cut so short. Because again the story can’t leave HXP out for 2 seconds.
I can also see why Zeus is gonna go insane.
5. i agree w/ other anon. LO should have pulled a PJO or a BoZ and just made up OCs and have them interact with the gods than whatever Rachel thinks shes doing, which is lying she's being accurate and faithful while completely changing all of it, removing what is needed, and adding what isnt so that it lines up with no actual myth besides like, various 50 shades fanfic she read in 2015 and some popular tumblr text posts.
6 . the animation studio behind blood of zeus literally can only draw one face for the men and one face for the women and they were still able to make the gods all look distinct and hot while LO can't even bother to use more than 6 colors and can only have the women look as tiny as possible with the biggest boobs while the men are all just lego men.
7. ////FP SPOILERS////
Okay so like I stopped reading LO way back before season 1 ended, and a majority of my knowledge of the series comes from what I read here on your blog which is enough for me lol and I decided to read the latest 5 chapters just to see what's up (on zahard. I refuse to give the actual series any views)
And I just. Could not take the whole scene with Daphne running from Apollo seriously? The anatomy and art inconsistency was so distracting that i genuinely could not find it serious. Even when Thanatos discovers her hibernated body I couldn't take it seriously because of how she looked?
And when Hades had that call (??? Was it a call? Or his inner dialogue? I couldn't really tell ngl) with Zeus and said he's causing Persephone unnecessary distress, and that she didn't pose any threat. B!tch??? She killed a ton of mortals??? She has no control over her powers???? She's literally a fugitive for the aforementioned things??? She apparently woke Kronos up? (Idk if anyone knows about that, again my knowledge only spans to whatever I read here) Hello????
And I have a lot to say about the chapters starting the trial but I'll only mention one thing; Hades saying "I don't think blindly supporting my little brother would be doing him any favours (as a ruler)" had me cackling. This is coming from a guy blindly supporting a girl he's literally only known for a few weeks, who's like what, only recently turned 20? Sit tf down Hades you're not cool, you creepy ass overgrown smurf.
Overall I still hate this series lmao. Regarding art though I feel like I wouldn't be so miffed about the anatomy much if the character designs were consistent and the story was compelling. They literally change hairstyles and body types frame by frame, and it's distracting.
The timeline from what I read here is laughable. 4 years in publication with almost 200 chapters and you're telling me only like a month has passed canonically. That's wild and such poor writing.
And as someone who literally will sympathise with any lead character pretty quickly, the story makes me hate them. It makes me want to root against them. I also hate the fact this trash is somehow top ranked on webtoons when so many other stories are far better then it.
Anyway, many thanks to this blog for existing and allowing me to dump so much text here to vent out my hate for this series lmao. You the mvp fam, hope you're having a good day 🥂🥂🥂
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Sharing Shipping Space with Amphibian and Reptiles
by Stevie Kennedy-Gold
Your online orders of clothes and household goods might well have shared shipping space alongside preserved toads and snakes from the Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Don’t worry though – museum specimens are shipped following long-established rules and regulations, and the movement of herpetological freight is all in the service of science.
Wait, what?! Well, at a relatively low, but steady rate, natural history museums loan out specimens, and these materials are generally shipped, outgoing and incoming, via regular commercial carriers.
Why loan out a specimen?! Why, to ask and answer awesome scientific questions, to enhance an exhibit, or to use as artistic references! Just as every human has a story unique to their own life and experiences, etched in their wrinkles, freckles, and scars, the same is true for every specimen in the collection. Each frog and lizard, snake and turtle has experienced different environmental impacts, endured famine, parasites, pollution, or predation. Each specimen has its own story. Instead of being written down within the pages of a book, the animals’ stories are recorded within their muscles, organs, bones, and DNA. As such, an eastern fence lizard collected from Pennsylvania in 1893 will likely have a different body size, diet, or parasite load compared to the same species of lizard collected from the same town in 2005.
Scientists request loans from museum collections so that they can examine the specimens, unlock the stories hidden in each body, and answer their scientific questions. Alternatively, we receive requests from artists needing reference materials for their newest works of art, or to more accurately render images of a species they would otherwise not be able to see up close (I’m looking at you, venomous snakes, highly toxic frogs, or now extinct species!). And, of course, museums themselves loan from collections to use in displays as representatives of the far larger number of specimens housed behind-the-scenes. Walk through Dinosaurs in their Time towards Cenozoic – those bones can be considered as an inter-building loan from our Vertebrate Paleontology collection. Head up to the Foster Overlook and check out our hellbender who choked on a marshmallow – that specimen is certainly an inter-building loan from the collection I manage.
But how exactly are specimen loans arranged? The process varies from institution to institution and from section to section, so this description is the process specific to the Section of Amphibians and Reptiles at this museum. Overall, though, the process is a great deal easier than it would seem. Assuming a borrower knows what species to work with, a search of the Section’s online presence at iDigBio or VertNet will determine the specific specimens to request. After that, a formal request letter is required. This document must include details of borrower affiliation, the species and specimens requested, and the reason behind the request along with any planned examination techniques. The next step in the procedure is an email directed to me through the museum website (here), again providing a brief description of the borrower’s intent.
Image 1: Prepping a loan of anoles for a researcher. In the foreground are lists of specimen preferences from the researcher and specimens in the collection which fit the criteria.
Assuming a request is reasonable (i.e., doesn’t involve the complete destruction of the specimen!), I then begin pulling the requested specimens from the collection, placing tiny loan slips in each jar as I go as place holders signifying the specimen’s loaned status (Image 1). The slip has the specimen’s catalog number, the loan number, and the requester. Paper trails are vital in loaning specimens. I also make a notation in my fancy new Loan database, as well as in the general Herp Section Specimen database. Finally, I draft up the loan contract which will be sent out with the specimens. I then wrap the specimens in cheesecloth (Images 2 and 3), give them a good soaking in alcohol, triple bag and heat seal them in, and slap the appropriate documentation on and in the box. The package then goes off to the mailroom!
Image 2: Laying out the specimens on cheesecloth in preparation for shipping. A loan slip can be seen behind the cup on the right side of the image.
Image 3: Charlotte, a recent intern in the section, helps package up a loan of toads.
Once someone has completed their work with the specimens, they normally notify me and ship the specimens back as soon as possible. Assuming all the specimens are returned in good order, the loan is closed, the specimens are returned to the collection, the slips of paper are pulled from the jars, and the specimens once again become available for other people to use.
Unfortunately, some specimen loans, like library books, become overdue. A typical loan duration is 6 months, at the end of which the borrower can request a loan extension (much like requesting an extension on a library book) or they can send the specimens back. If the loan period elapses without any communication, I don my imaginary “Lizard Librarian” hat and kindly request their return as soon as possible.
Due to the size of this collection, the responsibilities of a collection manager, the number of loans we send out annually (some years over 40!), and the recent (with respect to the general age of the collection) technological adoptions within the Section (i.e., creating digital databases), it is not surprising that the retrieval of some loans lapsed, and even the documentation of some specimen locations is unclear. As a result, I recently took it upon myself, with the aid of my fearless and tireless group of interns, work study students, and volunteers, to determine the “active status” for all loans sent out since 1925 (the earliest recorded loan in the section). We have nearly 2000 loan records to look through, but fortunately my predecessors did a decent job tracking when a loan was returned or when contact was made to request the specimens be returned.
It’s a long arduous process making sure that all the specimens are back. Initially, our search to verify if the specimen was returned begins with the jars containing species from the location where the borrowed specimen was collected. This process takes time, and the pace is contingent upon how many specimens were requested per loan and how many specimens (and jars!) of a specific species from a specific place we have in the collection. For example, tracking the whereabouts of a loan of 50 eastern newts from Pennsylvania has taken us a few weeks because we have nearly 20 jars of newts from the state, each containing at least 100 specimens.
Image 4: Before (left) and after (right) images of a selection of jars which we looked through to confirm the specimens were loaned out and for which we updated the jar labels. You can see in the bottom middle jar in the image on the right the loan slip and piece of orange tape which denotes specimens were loaned out from that jar.
If we emerge empty handed after examining all the jars of a specific species from a specific place, we then look in jars containing the same species collected from other locations. This process has resulted in finding almost 10 specimens previously deemed “missing” – some since the 1960s! On top of this process, we also record the catalogue number of every specimen in every jar we examine so we can update the jar labels with the specimen numbers (Image 4). This expedites finding specific specimens in the future and ensures that all specimens are placed in their correct jars. It’s a true labor of love and the process is a museum collection equivalent of an (ultra-ULTRA) marathon, not a sprint. When it all boils down though, I am just a librarian making sure that all my books (or specimens!) are where they ought to be.
Stevie Kennedy-Gold is the Collection Manager for the Section of Amphibians and Reptiles at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum employees are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.
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Random date night with Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo
Hello, anon! Ask and you shall receive! This prompt is very interesting and I will try to keep it in character as much as possible. To sum this up, Hisoka would take you to an ice cream shop, a carnival, or apple orchard while Illumi would rather go to an art or historical museum. Chrollo would persuade you to attend a book reading/author signing or go hiking. Depending on who you are and what your ideal date is, I’m sure you’d find them all fun. Going to a carnival or apple orchard is my go-to since I’ve barely been because they’re all in the suburbs. These headcanons are explained much more than the others. That is why Chrollo and Illumi seem to be short, but they’re not. Also, I can’t wait for Halloween because these headcanons are going to be amazing. I am extremely sorry if there are grammar errors! Taking classes on Zoom is frustrating and now my brain has to relearn everything that I lost in 3 months! Before we get started, I have a few announcements.
This post is more laid back than my other headcanons because I tried to keep it as canon as possible.
I want to thank you all for 65 followers! It means a lot! I’m happy to see that a lot of you enjoy my writing and like it enough to follow me! I have a challenge for you! When I reach 100 followers, I will host some type of writing event here...but I need ideas. I’ve seen some pages do specials where you can send an ask and pretend like you're talking to a character and I respond with what they’d say. SEND ME IDEAS! I WILL CREDIT YOU!
I will be stepping back a little more than before. I’ll still be logged in and re-blogging but as far as writing posts like this...it may only be once or twice a week. You see, I’m in college and I’m struggling financially and I have to work on scholarships. If you all send me an ask, be patient.
Voltron posts will only be created based on asks. I will not be writing posts about VLD if no one requests them. I do not receive any feedback from it anymore and no one seems to like them.
Now, let’s get into the post.
Let's start with Illumi first.
Headcanon 1: Illumi has a secret admiration for different types of art but he specifically enjoys pop art and surrealism. He has commented on how surrealism makes his brain twist and his feelings swirl as he tries to figure out the piece and what inspires it.
He prefers not to participate in tours as he likes to digest the art at his own pace.
Headcanon 2: In his spare time, he paints on a canvas. His art style consists of both surrealism and abstract art. For a person with a dark personality, his compositions always contain bright colors and abstract techniques that leave you wondering about his TRUE personality. He is truly a good man with a bright personality but after being abused for so long, those behaviors/personalities have been shoved so far down his throat that they may not come back up.
He has a bad habit of asking you what you thought about every single piece of art you passed. The conversations were great but this is a date after all. The playful conversation slowly turns into a lecture about art. Although you loved your bf’s dictionary-like brain it also drained your energy.
One of his favorite artists is Vincent Van Gough. Although he favors surrealism, Van Gogh’s art style was mind-blowing to him. So amazed that he buys several Van Gogh t-shirts from the gift shop.
His favorite piece created by Van Gough is “Starry Night”.
He notices that you are becoming bored and decides that it is time for MORE excitement, one that you are certain to enjoy.
“Where are we going,” you ask, pretending to be interested.
“Down to the basement. We are going to have a bite to eat.”
Since Illumi rarely smiled, when he did smile it drove you wild. The anticipation of what his next move was going to be is what drove that wildness. Being a bounty hunter was thrilling already but dating a smart, badass assassin was totally out of your league but it worked out.
Headcanon 3: Illumi’s idea of being romantic is dramatically different from yours. He believes just spending time with you on the couch was enough. He is correct; but if you have the time and funds, your time together should be a little spontaneous. You insisted on dates outside of the house because his family will not stay out of your business.
“Illumi, I am too hungry for more trivia.”
He chuckles. “Don’t worry. So am I. That is why I’ve decided to take you to a wine and cheese party.”
Huh? Wine and Cheese at 3PM? That’s ok. When was there a time limit on when you can drink alcohol?
Illumi has indirectly attended parties as such when he was 15 years old. He never drank, but he watched as his mother’s friends (surprisingly) talked about business and their children. This time, you weren’t going to talk about business for once. Instead, you two were going to actually talk about what couples discuss.
Headcanon 4: When introduced to alcohol for the first time, Illumi immediately stated how he hated brown liquor. That includes Hennessy, Jack Daniels, etc. It makes him sick to his stomach. He prefers to drink Smirnoff mixed with fruity drinks like strawberry or pineapple.
He loves it when you make these drinks for him on a summer day.
Hence the title wine and cheese, you both go to a stand-up table, place your brochures down, and actually have a wonderful conversation not involving work or hunting.
Illumi smiled a few times, more than usual. Whenever he appears to be softer even around you, that is because he has mellowed out and doesn't have the overbearing weight of his family on his shoulders. You set him free.
Hisoka
According to a one-shot that another manga artist created, they expressed that Hisoka was found on the side of the road, was taken in by someone that worked at a local circus, and learned Nen in a matter of days. Hisoka’s clown look and having the skills of a magician proves that this has to be canon in some way.
Headcanon 1: Given this potential backstory, going to a carnival is his go-to every summer. He wants to take you to a circus but saves that for you as an engagement gift.
Everyone with a heart knows that whether or not you’re in a relationship or not the carnival is fun as hell! Expensive fried food, elephant ears, funnel cake, ICEE’s, rides, and stuffed animals are to die for!
Being at a carnival relaxes him so his bloodlust isn’t activated unless someone bumps into him and causes a scene.
Headcanon 2: PDA is something that Hisoka does well; he doesn’t overdo it but does it enough where people get the impression that you are a couple and aren’t “best friends”.
While completing a mission depending on how rough it may be, he insists that you tag along to see how he handles the situation. You’ve already seen his ruthlessness from Hunter’s exam but he insists.
His sense of pride gets the best of him sometimes. Sometimes his head is so big that it reminds you of a large birthday balloon.
Headcanon 3: ANYWAY, given his nature, he is very adventurous, dangerous, and courageous. If he wants to go on the Demon Drop, he’ll do it and you DO not have a choice in the matter. He’ll tease or guilt trip you into doing something that you would not like to do.
“Well, you wouldn’t want me to cling on to someone else, would you?”
“No. Of course not,” you reply.
“Let’s go then, scaredy-cat.”
As a hunter, you’ve seen worse. Why are you so afraid to go on a ride?
Headcanon 4: At apple orchards, cornfield mazes are one of his favorites. You cannot for the life of you figure out how to get out but he can. He grabs a scarecrow and scares you from behind. That annoys you but is nothing compared to later on that night.
Oh. My. God. It’s haunted house time!
“Hisoka, I’m not going in!”
“Why not? I’ll protect you.”
“Because they’re monsters and I already have to deal with one.”
It took him a second to catch on that you were talking about him.
“That’s going to bite you in the butt, kitten.”
Headcanon 5: Like Killua, Hisoka has a sweet tooth. Don’t allow his buff appearance to fool you!
He LOVES caramel apples, elephant ears, funnel cake, freshly squeezed lemonade, fudge, and cotton candy. How can this man manage to stay in shape? The world may never know.
Headcanon 6: He isn’t one to play by other people’s rules but he sets his own rules with your relationship that you both must obey. One of those rules says that neither of you can be on your phones while together.
Headcanon 7: Hisoka insists that you both wear either matching pants or matching shirts to avoid unnecessary flirtation.
He isn’t jealous but on “us time”, he doesn’t want to lose a single second.
Headcanon 8: Hisoka only jumps in when necessary. Given that you’ve passed the hunter’s exam and work as a bodyguard, he knows you can handle your business. If the person can’t take a hint, then he steps in. They almost back up immediately considering Hisoka is towering over them.
When the moon shines, you both go to the car and off to sleep in your comfy king-sized bed.
Chrollo
We all know that Chrollo loves to read! What does he specifically like to read? What Genre? Does he like to read alone or with other people?
Although Chrollo is a thief and must be hidden in the shadows, the authorities have called off the search for him for at least 3 years. Slowly but surely, he begins to find himself in the outside world again.
Chrollo once discussed a book with the Phantom Troupe when they were being transported to another place for a mission. He read “Tears of a Tiger” by Sharon M. Draper.
The reading sessions are opened with an affirmation and a reason to be thankful to be alive. He says he is thankful for the troupe, glances at you, and smiles. No one catches on to that sly face except for Phinks.
Headcanon 1: Chrollo is very silent and shy to an extent. He only associates with people he knows and trusts. You are the social butterfly at this moment.
Chrollo tags along behind you like a shy child, holding your hand while you stick out your free hand to greet everyone.
Today, the book club was going to read “Divergent”.
Headcanon 2: Although he loves to read, he hates it when others read out loud. Most people are drably read and it annoys him. After a while, he takes over. Chrollo was tense the first 30 minutes of the meeting because two cops were there but neither of them noticed it was him.
Headcanon 3: Chrollo often acts the part of the character that he is reading in the book. His tone, attitude, and emphasis on certain words keep the group engaged. He is complimented on his acting!
“Good Job, honey,” you whisper.
He responds by tightly squeezing your hand.
His tone was so impressive that the host insisted that he read for the entire night. He was ok with that because in between reads he was often distracted by a lovely pair of jeans and shoes you had on. You were into writing, so hearing others read and act out the characters helped.
Headcanon 4: In some settings, Chrollo is very braggadocious. He insisted that the group read one of your stories so you could be provided with feedback.
“We’d be delighted to view your story, y/n!”
“It will be fun!”
The book club wasn’t a stereotypical club that only consisted of soccer moms but instead consisted of men and women who were involved with a business, law enforcement, health, etc. This was an open space for everyone to relax and forget about their demanding jobs.
After the meeting, the group went to dinner at a nearby pizzeria. You all enjoyed large pizzas, beer, salads, and dessert. How could your stomach (or anyone’s stomach) hold that much?
Chrollo laughed so much that it made you question if he was your actual boyfriend or not. He even engaged in conversations with the two off-duty cops! For once, you helped Chrollo experience the greater things in life; true love, friendship, and happiness.
“Thank you,” he whispered and slyly placed a kiss on your hand. “For everything.”
#hisoka#hisoka morrow#hunterxhunter#hunter x 2011#hunter x hunter#illumi zoldyck#hxh 1999#hxh 2011#chrollo lucilfer#chrollo#hxh illumi#illumi#hisoka morrow x reader#hunter x hunter x reader#hunter x hunter x you#hunter x hunter x y/n#illumi x reader#illumi x y/n#illumi x you#chrollo x y/n#chrollo x oc#chrollo x reader#chrollo x you#hxh headcanons#hisoka x reader#hisoka x y/n#hisoka x you#y/n imagines#hxh chrollo#hxh x reader
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The meaning of “I”
Chapter 104 spoliers!
Note 1. I’ll still be calling it “I” even though the translators are changing the way they translate it to be “peace,” because that’s what I’m used to calling it for now.
Note 2. Just a fair warning, this is a long post, but hopefully you enjoy!
Okay, I’ve been meaning to start this blog for months now but I’ve had no idea how to just start so here we are. I decided what better way to start off than talking about the newest chapter because there is oh so much to talk about in this one chapter alone. The first thing I really want to talk about from this chapter is the club’s song for nationals “I” or “Peace” as the translators have started calling it. Despite the fact the club has been working on “I” for a lot of chapters now, we still don’t know about the actual meanings and motifs that are in the song or what feelings they’re aiming to put into it. I think we haven’t heard much about this because the club is still trying to figure it out for themselves. Also, I’ve been questioning for a while what type of song Takinami would write for the club, and that was answered in this chapter.
What we do know about the song is that it has the 4-person part with Chika, Kota, Momoya, and Yoshinaga, a part where all 9 of the club members play together, a part where melodies played by Chika and Satowa and then Takezo and Hiro will intertwine, and everyone has a solo. It’s also been emphasized over and over that all 9 people are needed to play the song. Takinami has only given his usual vague hints as to what meaning he put into the song, because like always he wants the club to figure it out for themselves. Until we get to ch.104, in which Chika interprets it in such the opposite way of how Takinami meant it that Takinami finally feels the need to give him a hint as to what the song means (and thank god, because I really don’t think that poor Chika would’ve gotten it at all otherwise).
In chapter 104, we learn that “I” is actually a piece that can be played with any amount of the 9 parts and still be a full song. This is a huge deal, and honestly blew my mind when I first read it. Takinami has specifically pushed the idea that everyone needs to be there to play this song, knowing full well that in actuality the song would be complete no matter how many people played it. Everyone is still essential in his eyes because the point is the desire to play with everyone and the importance each member holds to each other. Takinami even brings up the conversation he and Chika had before Ku-on, showing just how huge of an impact the whole situation with Ku-on had on Takinami. With the performance of Ku-on, he saw what this group was really made of and what they were capable of, even in less than ideal circumstances they pulled through an intensely emotional performance. Takinami finally found a sound he couldn’t ignore. The conversation Takinami and Chika have in ch.25, when Takinami tells Chika he shouldn’t perform and Chika responds that he really enjoys playing with everyone, that sentiment made it into “I.” Except now, the tables are turned and instead Chika still desperately wants to play, but absolutely will not if it means no one else gets to and thinks that he won’t be able to, and Takinami has taken a complete 180 on what his stance was during Ku-on. Unlike in Ku-on, Chika is, in a way, trying to drop out, and now Takinami is the one telling Chika to stay and play. I honestly love this whole conversation between them, I love how Takinami gets pissed at Chika for even thinking about withdrawing from the club, I love that he points out that Chika is only 16 and does not have to take everything on himself, it’s just so great and just what I was hoping for: someone to knock some sense into Chika.
Anyway, then Takinami gives us the first hint as to what he intended “I” to mean. To paraphrase “Stop focusing only on what the others mean to you, and begin to think about what you mean to them.” This is something that pretty much everyone in the club has a problem with. They care about each other so much, will stand up for each other, but they don’t think about the fact that all the others care about them just as much. Takinami is trying to shift the focus from “these people are important to me” to “what do I mean to them?” hoping that these oblivious teens will someday get it. This works for so many of the characters.
Firstly, let’s talk about Takezo. He’s been club president from the beginning, and he’s always been a great one but has really come into his own. I think everyone sees him as an amazing club president, a leader that holds them together and believes in all of them as a whole and individually. He doesn’t see himself that way. Takezo has the opening notes of “I”, it all starts with him just how the entire club was brought together by him. He’s explicitly stated that he sometimes wishes that someone like Satowa could begin the song because he’s worried about the fact that his is the first sound in the song. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to give a strong enough opening because he still sees himself as a bit inadequate. But how does the rest of the club see him? They see him as this strong club president, someone who’s always been there as the foundation, so why shouldn’t he be able to start the song and be it’s foundation throughout? So, it would help Takezo if he saw himself the way the rest of the club does, because then he’ll realize just what he means to them and hopefully see what they do in himself.
With Momoya, Takinami made a big deal about the fact that he needed to want to play with the club, and that he had to want it for himself. This ties back to the conversation before Ku-on that Takinami has weaved through “I”. But it was also important for Momoya to take up an identity with his sound, to decide to be something, and own up to being someone with a mutable sound. He can fit in, but it all needs to be his choice. Momoya has also never thought about what he means to the club, and they keep surprising him with how friendly they are and how much they care about him. They just want him to be himself and stay in the club. Hopefully he starts realizing that soon.
If there’s one thing that Chika is truly terrible at it’s realizing his worth, both with himself and with other people. As Tetsuki says in ch.99.5 “I bet Chika never thought that he himself could be thought of dearly by somebody else.” Chika still definitely struggles with that. He has no problem letting everyone else know how much they’re cared for, how much they’re valued, but when it comes to himself, he still doesn’t see how he could be a person someone thinks of as dear. He still sometimes gets surprised by little acts of caring. With all this stuff with Uzuki going on, he’s more worried about the wellbeing of the club, meanwhile all the members are more worried about him than the state of the club. I think that’s almost incomprehensible to Chika, and yet it’s there, and in the next chapter it will hopefully come through loud and clear just how much they all care about him, but especially Satowa as she literally won’t let him do this alone.
Satowa, too, is terrible at realizing how much she means to people, as shown by the fact that Chika and the others literally have to spell it out for her sometimes. She doesn’t like being a burden, she doesn’t want to do anything that would disrupt or upset their lives. But she doesn’t really see how much those people care about her and that when you care about someone like that it isn’t a burden. Satowa’s self-worth is low, at least in some areas, and she always puts the club over her own desires or feelings due to having hurt people before, specifically her mother. Hiro even tells her in Ch.92 that the club can withstand whatever emotions she decides to express, but Satowa doubts that. Satowa, much like Chika, needs to come to the realization that people care more about her than they do the club, and again, thinking of herself from the perspective of how much the other’s care could help her realize this and her place in the club.
Chika and Satowa both are afraid of being selfish, they don’t want to come off as selfish and they want to put other’s first, but their own feelings realistically get in the way of them being entirely selfless. As Granny says to Chika in ch.77, you have to cherish yourself to be able to give to others and it’s important to think about yourself so that you can have a life you’re happy with. So, both he and Satowa need to start thinking of themselves in a more positive way instead of thinking it’s selfish, which could be helped if they looked at how other’s care about them, which is what “I” is all about.
Now let’s talk about these two intertwining melodies, one of which will be played by Chika and Satowa and the other by Takezo and Hiro, the section Takinami seems to have set aside for the oblivious lovebirds. Takezo and Hiro have each realized, on their own, that they’re in love with each other, and yet haven’t made the connection that the other feels the same way. Part of this is preservation of the club, but seriously how do you not realize? With Satowa and Chika, it’s even more complicated, and I plan to make a full post about it, but they certainly have never really thought about how the other must feel about them. Later on in the chapter, after Chika’s conversation with Takinami, Chika literally asks Satowa what she thinks of him. Not only did Chika take in what Takinami had to say, in the only way he’d listen which is through koto song terms, he thought about it while he was having lunch with Satowa and was trying to ask her a very important question about it before they were so rudely interrupted by the reminder of just how insane Uzuki is.
I think especially for Chika, Satowa, and Takezo, (who I look at as the main trio) this message of realizing who you are to the people around you is a huge part of their journey. They all need to stop denying themselves their own feelings, which is basically what Takinami was trying to tell them with “I.”
So, I seriously wondered for a while what kind of song Takinami had written for these kids. What better meaning could it have than pushing these people to realize just how much they mean to each other and start focusing on how those they care about see them, not just the other way around? Especially for Takinami, who puts up with a lot but ultimately wants to help these kids and believes in them.
I’m really glad he gave Chika the hint though, because I truly do not believe these kids would’ve gotten what “I” is about if he hadn’t given them that push considering they all avoid thinking about how the other’s must care about them, some of them I think are even afraid to think of it. It’s so perfect and I’m so excited to see where they go with it.
ps. I’m new to posting and stuff, so please be kind.
#kono oto tomare#kono oto tomare!#kono oto tomare chapter 104#kono oto tomare spoilers#kot#kot!#kot spoilers#kot! spoilers#kono oto tomare! spoilers#kono oto tomare manga#kot manga#kono oto tomare chapter 104 spoilers#kudou chika#hozuki satowa#takinami suzuka#kurata takezou#momoya natsu#kurusu hiro#takaoka tetsuki
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hi! i wanted to say i love reading your reflections on teaching, and in general i really look up to/am inspired by your thoughts regarding education and academia. if it's not too much to ask (completely understandable if it is, in that case please disregard!) i would love to get your advice on college related things?
i had pretty significant academic struggles throughout grade school, and ended up dropping out of college after a year. i would've graduated this may, so lately i've been considering going back and finishing my bachelor's. but i've been waffling on this decision because of 1) anxiety about having to drop out again, and 2) some confusion about what i actually want to study. i guess i'm wondering, is it worth it to start from scratch? my struggles were mostly about mental health stuff & difficulty keeping up with coursework—i loved being in the classroom, working with professors, learning from other students. i like being challenged intellectually, but if i have issues with followthrough, is there a way to work on that??? i know these are Big Questions, lol--whether they are answerable or not, cheers and thank you and i hope you are doing well these days. <3
hey! happy to give my thoughts, for what they're worth. you know your situation better than i do so the specifics may or may not be relevant, but i can give some advice just based on seeing lots of students pass through four-year programs!
i've worked with a number of students who took time away from college and came back to finish later. i took a year off myself in the middle of college for mental health reasons, though my school allowed you to take a two-semester leave of absence for any reason (so i always had the safety net of knowing i could come back without having to reapply or start over). in my experience, time away is almost always a good thing. sometimes people just really need that break from the stressors of the college environment! but more importantly, i think people benefit from having a few years' experience living and working in the world.
even though it can be intimidating to come back to college as an older student, i think older students or nontraditional students who took time off and came back tend to underestimate how much more confident and assured in themselves they'll be once they're back in the classroom. working out in the world for a while, even if it's not a job that you especially love or feel is relevant to your long-term goals, tends to help you build more trust in your own ability to get stuff done, manage responsibilities, and be an adult person in the world. in your time away, you've probably grown more than you think, and you may find that some of the things you struggled with at 18 just don't feel as daunting anymore. or they might feel daunting, but you also have more experience talking and working with other people, and you may feel more confident in seeking out & using your college's various academic success resources.
have you considered a two-year college as a possible next step? one of my advisees this year was an adult student who went to college for a year, dropped out, served in the military for four years, came back to do an associate's degree, and decided he liked school enough that he wanted to transfer to our university and finish his degree. (now he's going on to do a phd next fall!!!!) he's one of the most passionate advocates for community colleges i've ever met, and he's stayed actively involved in our local CC community & now mentors recent transfer students at our university. he's talked at length about how CCs are this amazing way for students to explore their interests without having to take on the huge price tag of a four-year degree, within a learning community that's much warmer, more responsive to student needs, and more accepting of the diverse paths that lead people to & through higher education. i wonder if you might consider taking a semester or a year of courses at your local CC, to dip your toes back in and see if you're still feeling energized by the experience.
you might find that some of the courses aren't intellectually challenging enough, but this might also be a wonderful opportunity to create the kind of learning experience you want to have. i was a full-time community college student for a year during my year away from yale, and while i'm sure i was just INSUFFERABLE in many ways, i had a prof in my Western Civ course who was really generous with his time/energy and met with me outside of class to help me figure out how to make the papers into something that i found really exciting and challenging to write. so the class kind of became what i made of it, and i got to read some stuff (dostoevsky!!!) that sent me down all kinds of interesting unexpected rabbitholes. the former CC grad i mentioned above was an extraordinarily bright student who would always go to office hours and ask his profs for more recommended readings, and he ended up becoming a TA for one of his courses and helped them redesign basically their entire intro humanities curriculum as a student advisor. so your CC experience can absolutely be what you make of it. and even if your profs can't give you that kind of support, you could practice doing it for yourself, setting little challenges for yourself either focused on the intellectual aspects ('I'm going to read and cite two scholarly sources in this paper, even though it's not required') or on developing strategies for effectively managing the workload ('I'm going to schedule a writing center appointment on Thurs, so I have to finish this paper two days before the deadline—and then I can devote my weekend study time to practicing for my Spanish test').
CC would be a slightly lower stakes environment for you to try out college again— lower-stakes both in the sense that it's cheaper (so if you decide you don't want to continue, you're not out as much money / don't feel compelled to go on to justify the debt you've taken on) and in the sense that the workload might be more manageable for you as you readjust to academic life and build systems & structures that work for you. as you probably have gathered from this blog, i am a HUGE believer in doing lower-stakes things many times over to build your own confidence and your trust in yourself, and then gradually scaling up the difficulty. by the time you reach the hard thing, you've already built up this strong image of yourself as a person who can handle challenges (and you've also had the chance to identify areas where you struggle & experiment with developing workable solutions).
if a two-year college isn't something you're especially interested in, i think it's definitely possible to start a four-year degree again. if that's the path you choose, i would strongly recommend reaching out to students in some of the degree programs you're tentatively interested in. people are almost always happy to share their ~wisdom~ (see: this ask response, lol) and most people love being asked for their thoughts on the pros and cons of something they know well. so you could get an honest sense from students of what the program is like, what the workload is like, and how useful or engaging people find the required courses for the degree. but also know that it's pretty normal to take courses all over in your first year or two (you have the advantage of having done a freshman year before, so you probably know this!), so you might just want to plan to try out a bunch of different things, with the goal of narrowing your focus by the end of your first year, or midway through your second.
i would also HIGHLY recommend spending lots of time familiarizing yourself with the resources your university has to offer. learn everything you can about the kind of mental health counseling and support they offer to students, and see if there are things you can set up in advance for yourself before you even step foot on campus. for instance, our university offers individual counseling, but they also have free groups that meet every week or two around different topics (coping with stress, students in recovery, etc) that are led by a counselor. check out your university's writing center or peer tutoring centers, too, and set up a standing appointment once a month or once a week or whatever, to bring in something you're working on—so that you know that every week, you're going to talk with someone about what's going well and what you're struggling with in your assignments.
you might also want to look into your university's services for students with disabilities office, as they can help you figure out if you are eligible for various kinds of accommodations or additional support (extra time on exams, notetaking services, recorded lectures, etc). i know you mentioned that you've dealt with academic struggles in grade school, too. if you think it's possible that there may be underlying learning differences that are affecting your academic work, it might be worth seeing if they can help you find lower-cost testing, so you can get a diagnosis that qualifies you for additional accommodations and university support.
many schools, esp large public universities, also have resource centers and mentoring programs for students from specific demographics who may benefit from additional structure and support in their early years of college. my university has a variety of resource centers and programs for students from low-income backgrounds, first-gen students, students who transferred from community college, etc. you don't have to take advantage of ALL of these resources, but proactively establishing a support network long before you need it is a really good way to set yourself up for success. and even just doing the research will probably help you feel more confident in your capacity to 'follow through', since you'll know that you're going into this with your eyes wide open AND with a detailed plan for what to do if you run into some of the same obstacles you encountered the first time around.
speaking of detailed plans: i find it helpful sometimes to do IF-THEN exercises with students when they're stressed about something on the horizon or unsure about whether they can handle some new challenge. IF-THEN is just what it sounds like: 'IF this thing I'm nervous about happens, THEN I'm going to do X, Y, or Z.' what i like about this exercise (i use it with myself too aha) is that it acknowledges that sometimes the thing you're dreading DOES happen. sometimes the professor you emailed for an extension says no. sometimes the TA doesn't understand why you're confused about the assignment. sometimes you don't have time to finish the reading before class. sometimes you overschedule yourself and you have to pull an all-nighter to finish two papers on the same night. scary things, confidence-shaking things, happen all the time, but they are rarely fatal! and there can be something really powerful about acknowledging and naming the thing you're concerned about, and then generating a few next steps you could take, should the thing you're dreading come to pass. i could see you doing something like this as you start thinking about the things that tripped you up last time, or made it difficult for you to balance the workload. if X happens, then what could you try next? giving yourself a few options means that you already have backup plans, too, which can make the whole situation less terrifying. if this happens, i might have to try this, or this, or this, and those things might not be the most fun or the easiest to do or the 'best' thing academically, but they'll get me through this difficult moment mostly in one piece, and once i'm through it i can look back on it and learn from it, or adjust the structures i've built for myself moving forward, to reduce the chance that X happens again.
PHEW!!! sorry this got so long but that is just the RISK YOU TAKE when sending me anons 😅 i hope that some of this is helpful to you, or at least sparks some useful thinking for you, even if it's not all directly applicable to your situation. i would say that if you love learning and find being in the classroom exhilarating, then you should absolutely go back to college! but that doesn't mean you have to go back right away, or that you have to go back and do it exactly the same way you did the first time. there are lots of possible paths to higher ed, and there's no particular rush—college will always be there, if it's something you decide you want now or at some future point in your life. i would also just reiterate again one of the core Themes of This Blog, which is that the brain is NEUROPLASTIC, and that humans have a truly astounding amazing capacity to change, grow, and learn new things (including new ways of getting around old obstacles or working through old challenges). just because you struggled the first time doesn't mean you are doomed to repeat that pattern. if you can spend some time thoughtfully reflecting on what you found most difficult to manage the first time through, you are better equipped to make plans, design new structures for yourself, and build the support networks that will help you thrive in college.
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Obey Me! Soulmate AU Lucifer 2
Sorry, I kind of dropped off the face of the earth for a hot minute there. I’m just going through some stuff, don’t mind me!~ I really hope you like this. I was planning on making it longer, but I felt like I left it off at a good place. I think I may finish off each story one by one, since I’m on a roll with Lucifer’s story, but it depends on my mood. I may start on Mammon’s part 2 soon, so you never know! Next part is either Lucifer part 3 or Mammon part 2 lol. I really hope you like it!!!
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When I was a little girl, scary movies always excited me. I would get on my hands and knees to beg my mother to let me watch them, even if I knew I'd have nightmares. There was just something about being scared but not being in danger that really made me happy. As I got older, it became an obsession. Horror movie posters littered my walls, and all other kinds of merchandise, some even rare items, surrounded me in my day to day life. But what always made my day was ghost stories. Some classic bumps in the night, others intense cases of demonic possession. Eventually, movies weren't enough of a thrill. I needed the real thing.
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"Are you sure about this, _____? I mean, I know you're into that freaky shit, but this is getting a little too real for me." _____'s best friend Monica says, holding herself in her arms.
"Oh please, Monny! It's just a little ghost hunt. Nothing to be worried about!" Her golden eyes widen as she gawks at her friend.
"Nothing to worry about? Girly, you know damn well I don't do ghost shit. That's all you, my friend, and honestly, I don't feel like dying before graduating high school!" _____ rolls her eyes, but this doesn't stop her friend's ramblings.
"You're following the information given to you by some rando on the internet you only met last week- he's probably leading you into a trap! This is one of those cases you see on HLN where the young, unexpecting girls get taken to be sex trafficked."
"We're not gonna die. And it's not even confirmed that there are ghosts here," _____ lifts up the broken chain-link fence and motions for her friend to enter.
"Wait, we're going through all this trouble and you’re not even sure if it's actually haunted?! Are you kidding me?"
"Look, if you're that much of a scaredy-cat, you can wait outside. I just want to snap a few pictures to post on my blog." Biting her lip and shifting from side to side, Monica weighs her options.
"Okay, fine. Just don't take forever. My mom wants us back before dark," Monica says, pouting.
"And don't call me a scaredy-cat!" _____ smirks.
"Okay, okay . . . Scaredy-cat!" She laughs, lightly jogging away from her friend and towards the abandoned building. With her flashlight in hand, _____ sneaks around the back under some fallen tree-limbs and clicks her tongue.
"If I remember right, the guy said it would be about . . . Here!" Finding the boarded window she was looking for, _____ slides the board up and enters the hole. She drops down into a dark room, the only light seeping in through the cracks in the worn wood covering the window. Quickly turning on her flashlight, the young girl takes a look around what appears to be the basement of the run-down house.
"He seemed to have left out the fact that my little 'tour' would start in the basement, but I can work with this." _____ takes a deep breath and scans the area. Besides some creepy old toys, nothing really interests her here.
So, she finds the door leading upstairs and slowly makes her way up the creaking wood. The leaky pipes and several rainstorms since the abandonment of the house have not been kind to the drywall and wood structuring. Reaching the top, _____ shines her flashlight around, taking in the once white walls of the family room, now covered in mold.
"A little Damp-rid would do this house some wonders, I'm sure." Her camera flashes as she takes her first shot, making sure to get in the ripped couch and fallen portraits. Had vandals and old age not did their thing, this house would have been in perfect condition.
"The people living here just up and abandoned it with no warning. Seems . . . Suss if you ask me.” She scrunches her face and shrugs.
"Alright, let's do some exploring." Shaking off her shakes of anticipation, _____ ascends the stairs leading to the second floor with caution. Despite her lack of fear for the paranormal, she still fears falling through the dampened wood flooring and having to explain to her mother why she's in the hospital getting tested for tetanus. A sudden sound above her makes her stop for a moment, halting the loud creaking of the stairs.
"What the Hell . . . ?" What sounds like a light tapping across the floor above slowly moves forward toward the stairs and ending at the door at the end of the hall. She shines her flashlight there, but it begins to flicker and dim.
"Shit! I just changed these batteries!" She bats it with her palm, but it does nothing as it fades away. The hinges of the door screech as it slowly begins to open, so slow that it's barely visible. What little light is streaming through the cracks of the boarded windows seems to almost be absorbed by the darkness inside the bedroom. _____ gets closer to the door, feeling an immense pull to open it and go inside. Her goal of capturing pictures long gone from her mind as she reaches out and touches the handle.
"_____! Are you done yet?!" Her friend yelling to her from outside startles her and she removes her hand. She releases a breath she didn't know she was holding and tilts her head to yell back.
"Uh, Yeah, almost! Be right out!" Her feet tap against the wood flooring as she descends the stairs, but pauses and takes a look back at the door all the way at the end of the hall.
"It'll only take a second . . . " She says to herself, never removing her eyes from the darkness within.
"Come on, _____! We're losing daylight!" Biting her lip, she lifts her camera and snaps a few photos before running back to the basement and out of the small window. Just as her friend said, the sun is almost below the horizon.
"Oh shit."
"Oh, shit is right! Let's get out of here!"
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Growing up the way I did, I never really thought too much about what that day meant. Though every once in a while, I find myself thinking about that house. Monica and I left that town not long after we graduated, but the longing I have to go back has nothing to do with homesickness.
"Hey, look! I never thought I'd be seeing these pictures again!" Monica laughs, holding up the small box filled with photos from _____'s old camera.
"Is that prom?" She asks, making her way over to Monica with curiosity.
"I think so," She holds up more photos of the two girls in dresses holding hands with a boy and another girl.
"It has to be. Look, there's Jonah!" _____ rolls her eyes and groans.
"God, I hoped I would never have to see his face again. Burn the pictures!"
"No!" Monica holds the photos to her chest protectively.
"Just because you hated your date, doesn't mean I hated mine!" _____ laughs.
"True. Okay, you can keep 'em! I have all these on a hard drive somewhere, so I'll have plenty of memories!" The smile on Monica's face slowly begins to fall at _____'s words.
"Do you really have to go? I know I've said this like a thousand times, but how do you know you can trust this man?" It's understandable that Monica is concerned. I mean, most people would be if their best friend meets a guy and less than a month later moves out with them.
"I'll be fine. I promise. And I'll write all the time!" Monica groans.
"Exactly, you'll write! I mean, where even is this place that you're going, huh? No cell service, no internet? It's like this guy is taking you completely off the grid, and that's what worries me. He's not forcing you to do this, is he? Cause if he is-!" _____ grabs Monica's shoulders and looks her in the eye.
"Nobody's forcing me to do anything! I love him . . . Perhaps it's a little fast for most people, but I know for a fact that we're meant to be together. Please, trust me on this." The brunette's shoulders sink as if finally accepting _____'s answer.
"Fine. But just know that I don't like him!" A smile makes its way onto _____'s face and pulls her hands back.
"I guess if you don't like him then you won't want to be here tomorrow." Her head snaps up making her brown curls bounce around her head.
"Why?" The ghost hunter smirks and checks her nails.
"Well, my boyfriend and a few of his brothers are coming over to take most of the boxes. I wouldn't want you to be upset, so it's probably best if you stay away."
"Are you kidding me?! Of course, I'm gonna be there! I'm gonna give this bastard a piece of my mind! First, he takes my best friend away, and then he thinks he can just walk up in here and not even ask for your hand in dating from the one person that counts?! Oh, I'll show him! And his brothers too!" Fuming, Monica starts to pace, her arms flailing animatedly.
"Are you gonna give them all a stern talking to, mother dearest?" She stops in her rambling to glare at _____.
"Keep giving me backtalk, and I might just give you a stern talking to. With my fist!" _____ retaliates by throwing a couch pillow.
"Oh, it's on, girly!"
______________________________________________________
"_____, are you awake?" The young woman shifts in her sleep, stretching before opening her eyes.
"I am now. When did you get here?" Lucifer smiles, moving some hair from _____'s face.
"Only a moment ago. I didn't mean to wake you, I had just thought you'd be up." _____ takes a look at the clock on her nightstand, her eyes widening.
"Holy shit! It's almost two?" The tender moment is lost as she jumps out of her bed and runs to her adjoined bathroom. A smirk makes its way onto the demon's face, watching her frantically trying to brush her teeth and hair at the same time.
"There's no need to rush, my love. Although the sight before me is breathtaking, I'll go keep my brothers' busy loading boxes into the portal. Wouldn't want them stumbling in here and seeing something only I should see." The cheeky bastard leaves the room, and _____ looks down at her bedtime apparel consisting of panties and a large shirt.
"Well, that's not embarrassing or anything."
She quickly finishes getting ready and heads down the stairs to an argument.
"It's your fault!" Levi yells, gesturing to a box at his feet.
"Me?! What did I do?!" Mammon yells back, defensive.
"You made me drop it with your stupidity! If you hadn't been acting like a big baby, we would have most of this done by now!" The box in question happens to be the small box filled with photographs.
"Hey guys, don't worry about it! It's just some pictures. I'll clean it up, no biggie!" The two demons blush and look away, a bit ashamed to be yelling in front of the girl.
"Sorry, _____. If Mammon actually did his job, we'd be out of here by now."
"I'm helping!" Levi rolls his eyes.
"If by helping you mean complaining, then yeah, you've been a big help!" Mammon crosses his arms and glares.
"Oh, like you're any better? Just two minutes ago you were complaining about how you're arms hurt! These boxes should weigh nothing to you!" As the fight continues, Lucifer comes up next to her and sighs. I'm sorry about my brothers, _____. Would you believe me if I told you they actually volunteered to help?" _____ laughs.
Over the course of knowing Lucifer, the young woman has grown close to his brother's as well, mainly the two standing in front of her. Mammon likes her ghost adventure stories, and Levi just likes the fact _____ is willing to listen to his rants. Even Satan has enjoyed a few human books recommended to him by the lovable ghost hunter, and they often discuss murder mysteries together over text. It's no surprise to Lucifer that his soulmate gets along so well with his brothers. He cares dearly for his younger siblings, and _____ provides the care his pride prevents him from showing.
"I believe it. But, you know, brothers will be brothers," She smiles up at him, unknowingly making his heartbeat just a bit faster. Her eyes widen a bit and a small gasp leaves her lips as she takes another look at the clock.
"I forgot to tell you, but Monica is-"
"Where is he?!" The front door slams open, halting the never-ending argument and making _____ pout.
"Monica, any damage left gets taken out of my deposit. Could you be a bit more careful?" The brunette crosses her arms and scans the room, reading all three men, and assessing the situation. Her eyes narrow at Levi, making him whimper slightly and shrink under her gaze. Next, Mammon, who just crosses his arms back and raises a brow under his sunglasses. Her eyes land on Lucifer and her glare turns to a scowl. Target acquired. She dramatically raises her hand and points at the demon.
"You." Confused, he points to himself.
"Me . . . ?"
"You're the one that's stealing my sister from me!" _____ sighs and puts her head in her hand.
"Here we go." Monica walks over, practically chest to chest with Lucifer, though there's a notable height difference. Lucifer coughs awkwardly, looking down at the female.
"Is there a problem?"
"I don't know, is there?" _____ sighs again.
"Monica-"
"Don't 'Monica' me! I don't care how big and muscular he appears to be, he better square up, cause he's not taking you without a fight, sis!"
"This is ridiculous, Monica. You can't fight him." Her glare deepens, never breaking eye contact with Lucifer.
"Watch me." She raises her fist.
"I don't think you want to do that," Lucifer speaks up, temporarily halting her actions.
"There's nothing you can say to me that'll- Put me down!" Lucifer picks up Monica by her shoulders and gently holds the kicking and screaming girl until she gives up trying to escape.
"Are you done?" Huffing and puffing, she nods and he places her back on her feet.
"You are a truly worthy opponent. I'll be more prepared next time. Until then, you have earned my blessing. For now!" _____ rolls her eyes, and Lucifer smiles at her.
"Thank you. I apologize for not meeting you sooner. My work prevents me from leaving, and what little free time I have I use to talk to _____. It was wrong of me to not speak with you before arranging this." Monica looks at Lucifer, still skeptical.
"Hm, wise words and a wise decision, trying to butter me up. But I won't give up that easily!"
"Is she always like this?" Mammon asks, leaning up against the wall.
"Always like what? Amazing, beautiful, cautious, careful, caring, concerned??"
"Woah, slow down 'C for Catastrophe', I think you just come off as a little strong sometimes, Monny. Maybe tone it down for the newcomers, alright?" Pouting, Monica agrees.
"Okay, maybe I can be a bit overbearing." _____ raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.
"That's an understatement," Leviathan says under his breath earning a death glare from the brunette.
"I hate to cut this short, but we should really be going." _____'s head snaps up to look at Lucifer.
"What? Why? You just got here?" His face saddens as he looks down at her, holding her hand in his.
"I know, but I need to head back. Certain duties require my attention," He pulls _____ close in a hug and puts his lips to her ear.
"And Lord Diavolo was only able to keep the portal open for a certain amount of time." His warm breath on her neck sends a shiver down her spine and a blush to her cheeks. She hugs him closer and nods before letting go.
"Alright, I hope you guys have a safe journey back!" She waves to them, Lucifer giving her a quick peck on the cheek, not really one for PDA, and they head out of sight through the front door. Monica clears her throat and looks down at the ground.
"Sorry." Genuinely surprised, _____ turns to her friend.
"For what? You were just being a good friend!"
"Not that," She sighs, and wrings her hands together.
"I didn't know his time here was limited. I didn't mean to keep you from him." _____ smiles and pats her friend on the head, which earns her an annoyed scowl.
"It's okay, Monny, don't worry about it! How about we make some tea and chill for a bit? I still have some packing to do before next week." The shorter female smiles and nods.
"Definitely! I'll start the water!" She rushes off to the kitchen, leaving _____ in the living room. It's true that she's upset she didn't get to be with Lucifer for very long, but she doesn't blame her friend. Magic is something she still doesn't understand but knows there are certain limitations.
Maybe if she had gotten up earlier, she could have talked with her soulmate a bit more, but she was just so tired. Her dreams kept her up tossing and turning most of the night, much to her displeasure. She doesn't remember exactly what they were about, but they weren't pleasant, and she's not sure if she actually wants to remember them.
Monica working to heat up the water, _____ decides to clean up the scattered pictures from the fallen box. There's no particular order they should go in since they were pretty much haphazardly thrown in there to begin with, but she tries to start from the bottom, attempting to keep some sort of linear timeframe of when she put the pictures in there.
"Eventually I gotta go through these and get rid of the junk. I don't think I want Lucifer seeing me at fourteen with braces, pigtails, and eyeliner up to my temples." She gently shuffles through the pictures, tossing them in as she goes, until she reaches the last group.
Undoubtedly the darkest of them, they immediately stand out from the family beach days and the cringe selfies. _____ picks them up, and examines them. The first few are of crumbling walls and boarded up windows, no doubt an abandoned house she's been to, but that's not what strikes her as odd. She never kept her hunting photos with her normal ones, especially back then.
Her mother would have killed her if she found out, so she would always develop them and put them in a lockbox under her bed. The last few photos in the bunch show a dark hall, and it's as if all the heat rushes from her body. A cold chill replaces any warmth she may have had as she looks from one picture to the other, the hallway becoming darker and darker before it goes completely black, the door at the end the only thing visible.
While she remembers taking the pictures, she doesn't remember ever actually developing them. It was her first abandoned house- thinking back it would have been weird for her not to take a look at them. But the more she tries to remember, the more she can't. It's as if she's blocked it out somehow.
"You okay, girly?" Monica places her hand on _____'s shoulder, breaking her from her thoughts.
"Uh, yeah, sorry. Got a little distracted is all," She places the pictures at the top of the box, closes it, and puts it to the side.
"Now, how about tea?"
The two girls spend the rest of the night packing and chatting, almost making _____ forget about the pictures. Almost. It isn’t long after Monica leaves that _____ finds herself drawn to the small box, knowing that the pictures are just a few feet away. A ringing from her pocket startles her, and she pulls out her DDD. The caller ID says Lucifer, and she smiles knowing how late it is. This is most likely his first break since he got back.
"Hey, are you okay?" Her smile drops a bit at the urgency in his voice.
"Yes, why? Is everything alright?" He sighs on the other end of the phone sounding relieved.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I felt that you were in danger, and the pact was calling to me." Sure enough, the pact mark on her arm is glowing a beautiful blue, bright enough to shine through her shirt sleeve. She lightly rubs it, willing it to stop, and the glow slowly fades.
"Sorry, I didn't even realize I was doing it. It's just . . . " _____ bites her lip, looking over at the box.
"_____, what's wrong? Are you in danger?"
"No," Sighing, _____ turns away from the box and heads to her bedroom, attempting to put it out of her mind.
"I was just anxious . . . I miss you." He chuckles a little, making her heart race.
"I miss you too. I'm sorry I had to cut our afternoon short, but Lord Diavolo needed me. The higher demons are still . . . Skeptical about our father's decision. They've become nervous, and there have been talks of a coup."
"Oh, wow," She never really thought about it, but it makes sense why people would be skeptical especially demons. To them, it may seem like some plot to take over the Devildom.
"How's Lord Diavolo handling this news?" She's spoken to Lord Diavolo a few times, and he's always seemed like such a nice and positive guy that really cares about his kingdom and its citizens.
"He's upset, but not surprised. But he knows my brothers and I are on his side, so if a coup were to take place, they wouldn't get very far."
"I'm glad. How are you handling this? Want to talk about it?" She's concerned for him, despite knowing how powerful he is. His workload before was intense, but now she's sure it's even worse. He barely gets to sleep, and she can hear it sometimes when he's on the phone with her. He's even fallen asleep on the phone, much to her disappointment. She feels guilty every time that happens, because he's clearly tired but still staying up late to talk to her.
"I would love to, but unfortunately, there's not much I can say . . . "
"You never know who's listening, right?" He laughs.
"Yes, I'm sorry. But I can tell you that all of this will be sorted before next week. I'll make sure of it." The determination in his voice was enough to know he was telling the truth. Once Lucifer makes his mind up about something, it gets done.
"I believe you! But even so, I'm sure my presence might stir up the higher demons. Maybe it's best if I and the other girls stay here until the Devildom calms down." She's heard of his brother's soulmates before, though she's never actually talked to them. But it's not hard to assume that they are going through the same things she is, feeling the same things, and wondering how their lives are going to change.
"At the moment, any plans for you or the others to come here are still on track. But, I'm afraid you may have a point . . . "
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I know no matter what you decide, it'll be the right choice. I have the utmost confidence in you, hun." Lucifer clears his throat, flustered.
"I'm glad you do. Your safety is my top priority. One of them."
"I can only imagine the work you have right now. I'll let you go." _____ glances at the time. It's pretty late for her, and the time difference isn't too far off from her own.
"I'll call you tomorrow as soon as I can. Sleep well, my love." For him not to protest hanging up the phone, he must really be swamped with work.
"Sleep well." Laying down, _____ can feel her eyelids falling heavy and pulls the covers over her shoulders. Despite her pleasant thoughts of her love, her dreams are anything but.
To be continued ------
#obey me!#obey me! x reader#obey me! lucifer#obey me! mammon#obey me! leviathan#obey me! satan#obey me! asmodeus#obey me! beelzebub#obey me! belphegor#obey me! lucifer x reader#obey me! soulmate#obey me! soulmate au
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