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littledata · 9 hours

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@princington's amazing art brought me back to this fic so have a little extra for them.

There are many, many terrible things about dating Beatrice.

For example: she manages to wake up at six AM every single morning to go jogging and comes home looking sweaty and sexy while Ava is still dealing with bedhead. She's also organised to the point of insanity and remembers every important date, even the ones Ava didn't realise she knew (like the date she opened the coffee shop. They hadn't even met for fuck's sake), and manages to swoop in with a thoughtful gift or kind word to mark the occasion. Meanwhile, Ava is still scribbling DON'T FORGET DENTIST - TUESDAY?? on the back of her hand like a high schooler.

And if all of that wasn't horrible enough, even after almost a year of dating, Beatrice can still roll up the cuffs of her sleeves or adjust her glasses or recite some complicated piece of research, and Ava winds up hopelessly turned on in public on the regular.

It sucks, actually. Ava's life is awful.

None of that is the worst part of it though. The worst part of dating Beatrice, who is sexy and thoughtful and intelligent, is that she's fucking impossible to buy gifts for.

Beatrice doesn't actually want anything is half the problem. She reads a lot of books but she mostly checks them out from the university library. She drinks a lot of tea, but Ava runs a coffee shop. If her girlfriend wants tea, she has a store room full of it. Other than that, she mostly likes crosswords, the gym, her friends, and… well. Ava.

It's making planning for the first birthday Beatrice has had since they've been together exceptionally stressful. Particularly since Ava knows for a fact that Beatrice's parents believed in a "socks and school supplies" style of gift giving which, as far as she's concerned, barely even count.

"What are you getting Bea for her birthday?" she whispers conspiriatorially to Camila one Saturday afternoon in Mary and Shannon's back yard. Beatrice herself is bouncing the baby on her knee and debating some obscure scientific hypothesis - something about mold. Ava is surprised to find she actually has an opinion on the topic. Probably all those mold documentaries.

Camila snorts, "Have you just figured out she's impossible to buy for?"

"Yes," Ava stresses, "C'mon, what are you getting her? And if it's really good I'm stealing your idea."

"Oh no." Camila shakes her head, "It took me all year to think of something. You're on your own."

"Cam." Ava tries her best pleading, puppy dog eyes. They don't work nearly as well on Camila as they do on Beatrice.

"Ava." Camila pats her hand comiseratingly, "Just get her what every self-respecting lesbian wants for their birthday."

Ava frowns, "Power tools?"

Camila smirks, "Strap-on and lingerie."

So that conversation was entirely useless - mostly because Ava already owns more than enough of both those things and they sort of seem like a gift for both of them more than just Beatrice. And more than anything else, Ava wants her girlfriend to feel special. Like she's worth something great that's for her and only her.

Shannon is her next port of call. Ava corners her in the kitchen where she's refilling drinks and, probably pre-warned by Camila, looks entirely unsurprised to be accosted.

"We normally order some of the gross British candy she likes," Shannon informs her. "And before you even try it - she knows that's what we get her every year, so don't try and steal the idea."

Ava groans despondently, "I'm hitting a wall here. What the fuck do you buy for someone who doesn't actually want anything?"

Beatrice does always say that her best friend is unreasonably logical and practical in her advice. For the first time, Ava understands her plight when Shannon shrugs and says, "Have you tried asking her?"

With nothing else to do, Ava tries. Admittedly, she probably picks a bad time to do it: she's shirtless and sitting cross-legged on their bed while Beatrice massages lotion into the new tattoo on her shoulder. Bea's fingers are gentle and thorough and very, extremely distracting.

"Hey," Ava says a little breathlessly, her eyes closed, "What do you want for your birthday?"

Beatrice, because she is Beatrice, says, "You don't have to get me anything."

Typical. This is why dating her is so difficult. "Obviously I do," Ava points out. "For my birthday you took me to a theme park even though it's your idea of actual, literal hell." Bea had even bought and worn a t-shirt that said "I RODE THE BIG ONE". Camila has the photograph framed in her office.

"Not actual, literal hell," Beatrice argues, "I enjoyed that you had fun."

"There's really nothing you want?" Ava asks.

Disappointingly, Beatrice's fingers stop their movement and she puts a cap on the lotion, moving off the bed behind Ava. "Is this what you were whispering with Camila and Shannon about earlier?"

"Maybe. They weren't helpful."

Beatrice's smile is affectionate, "They never are." She leans in to kiss her, her hand landing on Ava's bare shoulder and skirting over her neck, "I'd like to spend my birthday with you. That's all."

Ava wraps her arms aroud her shoulders and sighs, "Dating you is the worst."

"Mm, awful," Beatrice agrees, kissing the corner of her mouth and then her jaw. "Shall we break up?"

"Yep." Ava turns her head to press their lips together again and uses her distraction to lie back, pulling Beatrice down on top of her. "We're over."

(On her birthday, they drink tea in bed and do a crossword puzzle with Ava's head on Beatrice's shoulder. Later, they wander through a museum eating wine gums and holding hands. At Shannon and Mary's place, Beatrice unwraps the cordless drill that Ava bought for her.

"Thank you," she says, "It's just what I wanted.")

(Ava saves the strap-on and lingerie for later.)

#warrior nun #avatrice #extra writing

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multifandom-nerds-blog · 3 days

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I'm rewatching Trollhunters in the background right now, and the disfunctional mother son relationship between Jim and his mom is making me crazy.

Like, he's taking care of the household and his mother for years as a teenager and before probably. She is sometimes giving half hearted comments about him not having to do so much, but very obviously she's not gonna make him stop do all the cooking and cleaning. Y'know. Both because they've been living like this for years, and because it's obviously also very comfortable to have someone do all the house work.

Then Strickler comes into the picture, and if we ignore the whole Troll and changeling side of the story, Barabara gets very offended cause Jim doesn't want her to meet him privately. Again, ignoring the whole magic and trolls stuff, STRICKLER IS JIMS TEACHER. If Jim hadn't figured out that Strickler was a changeling he probably wouldn't have a problem with it, but the fact that he does, no matter the reason, should be enough for Barbara to put a stop to the relationship. Her child is clearly uncomfortable with her seeing/dating that guy, for whatever reason, and even clearly vocalized it. But she doesn't care about, or rather, she tells Jim that she "wouldn't expect something like that" from him. Obviously not, cause she may see him like her child/teenager he is, BUT DOESN'T TREAT HIM LIKE ONE.

And then Jim, unknowingly to Barbara, becomes the Trollhunter, and his behavior changes. He's suddenly doing reckless stuff, sneaking out, getting bruises, landing in detention and even at the police station, barely avoiding a police report. What does she do? Asking him what's going on? If everything's alright at school? If he has any other problems? Maybe trying to lower his workload around the house, which again, he's doing most of that as a teenager and longer probably.

Nah. She doesn't do anything until he lands in the hospital. Except for again, dismissing him rather negatively at the one topic he's openly expressing any negative opinions about (Strickler). And after he lands in the hospital she now starts not asking questions, but demanding answers. Demanding answers from a teenager in a difficult situation who is also now acting much more like a teenager than he ever did before, from her point of view at least. Except she obviously doesn't know how to deal with a teenager, cause she has never had to raise or live with a teenager. She instead lived with a child pretending to be an adult for years, that was partly much more of an adult than she was, who did way to much work even before Jim became the Trollhunter. So she throws punishments at him and grounds him, but does he listen?

No. Cause why should he? Not only is he dealing with things much more important than being grounded, yknow, saving the world, he's trying to protect her from the sheer knowledge of the supernatural and physically protecting her from getting harmed. And again, for the majority of the time since his dad left he pretended to be an adult. He was and is the main adult in the household, dealing with important things she doesn't even know about.

The only one's treating Jim like a teenager are teachers, other children and Blinky and Aaargh sort of when they're not in the middle of Troll business. Strickler, in the first episodes where Jim doesn't know about his true identity, is much more of a parental figure to Jim (also after his redemption later on tbh) than his mother.

In summary: Barbara is treating her son like an adult, almost like a partner, instead of a child/teenager. And when that isn't possible anymore she doesn't know how to properly treat him. She also doesn't really care that her son is uncomfortable with her being around Strickler, or Strickler in general. And it takes Blinky telling her (when Jim is 16) that Jim might be affected by his father leaving when he was five years old.

Jim meanwhile is treating his mother more like a child/teenager instead of the adult and MOTHER that she is. Seeing her as his responsibility. Cooking for her. Cleaning for her. Telling her to rest and take breaks.

They obviously love each other other. And their relationship might not be toxic, but it's very much disfunctional. In a way that is mostly negative for Jim.

#toa #toa trollhunters #trollhunters #jim lake jr #jim lake junior #barbara lake #walter strickler #trollhunters strickler #tales of arcadia #blinky #aarghhh #trollhunters blinky #Barabara; just because Steves mother has a relationship with one of his teachers and it working out between him and her son #Doesn't mean it's gonna work out for you #If you're a parent and your child is uncomfortable with a partner of yours #YOU BREAK IT UP #Especially if your child is still living with you #Seriously #Okay I know trainer Lawrence probably only became Steves stepdad later in the series #And they also had to work some things out first #But at least they didn't try to kill each other and trainer Lawrence was actively trying to be a good parent/friend to steve #And don't get me started on “A vespa costs so much”: YOU'RE A DOCTOR #Don't know much about new jersey or wherever the show takes place but doctors earn good money almost everywhere #Especially with how much nightshifts and over time hours she has #Not being sure about your 16 year old driving I understand #But don't try to excuse it with money when you're obviously not poor and he's been wanting it for so long that you could've easily saved up #The money till his 16th birthday #Okay I ranted about this long enough #Also the fandom is dead so nobody will read this probably #Byeee

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goodluckclove · 6 hours

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A Celebration!

So I have memory issues.

It's for a lot of reasons that I won't get into here, it's really not a big deal. But it plays a fun part in the way I form relationships, especially relationships online. To put it simply, I can no longer really remember how I met @mercuryytheraven. I think I made some post asking people to tell me what's keeping them from writing and challenging them to allow me to fix it. We spoke for maybe thirty minutes, and I remember them saying that they were working on a Warrior Cat's fan fiction, which tickled me because I didn't know people still read those books.

They essentially said that they've been trying to write for some time, but no matter what they did they could never get past around 100 words. Something always got in the way. If I'm being honest, I don't remember what I told them, but it must've been insightful because they've been messaging me almost daily ever since.

Eventually my brain just accepted the presence of this bright, dandelion-fluff of a human being. I would look at my phone and say oh hey, it's them again. I would tell my wife about their exploits and we would remember what it was like to be young and even more confused than we are on a daily basis. Quietly, and I have never told them this, but I started calling them my protege. I don't know if that's arrogant or not.

Mercury is such a treasure of spirit. All it takes is one conversation to see the depth of color they carry within them. They care so deeply and about so many things, a quality hard to find in a world so preoccupied with cynicism and meta post-irony. Not only are they already an insightful and deeply curious writer, they are also an incredibly skilled visual artist. I questioned the validity of the high standards they held themselves to again and again - but then I told myself that I once did the same thing.

When I met Mercury they said they never wrote more than 100 words. That was less than a month ago. Today they just finished the first chapter of the Warrior Cats fanfiction they've been brewing for years. It's just over 3500 words.

Friend, do you know how remarkable that is? Can you imagine that big a breakthrough? I cannot stress enough that this is an immense achievement - not unbelievable, very believable, but hard. Worthy of accolades. Worthy of relishing in!

One chapter is never just one chapter. It's the creation of something foundational that didn't exist before. It doesn't matter if it's a fluffy fanfic one shot or literary novel or long-form au or pulp genre shlock. It wasn't here before and now it is and that is one of the most wonderful things in the world to me.

You might know me as someone against the general romanticization of The Writer as an archetype, but it's moments like these that truly call that stance into question. Because what @mercuryytheraven did today, and what many of you do whenever you can, is truly a precious sacrament. It is ritualistic in nature, a human sacrifice where we are the blood offering and the result is a story birthed from our own transfer of matter.

It is beautiful. So please, if you can, send some congratulations in the direction of our friend and colleague. And the next time you reach a milestone you feel is too small to be remarkable, know that you're wrong. You're doing something special for yourself and those around you with every single word you write, whenever you can write it.

So go write it!

#writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #on writing #writing #authors of tumblr #actually writing #writing inspiration #writing inspo #writers supporting writers

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puppetmaster13u · 8 months

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Y'know how they canonically don't know if Jason or Cass is technically older than the other? What if

Possessed doll AU belongs to @phoenixcatch7 so go check them out <3

#possessed doll au #Batman au #batman #jason todd #robin #black bat #cassandra cain #Like imagine if the league met them both at once or a few days apart from the other lol #They're both such sweet kids but they'll also turn into gremlins at a moments notice #Which league member asked the question is the question lol #Someone asking what their deal is because they've like #met another robin before?? but this is obviously a different robin??#Is it like a stage of life for whatever the heck the bat is????????#They're concerned and bemused and have no idea wtf is going on there's just both these kids on the watchtower now #They've snuck up while Bruce is doing reports and he's going to be so concerned when his allies call him #Excuse him they're *where*

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backslashdelta · 2 years

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#mine #personal #venting ahead sorryyyyyy please feel free to skip #ugh sometimes I forget how small-town the place I live is #like the people I surround myself with are generally pretty good #maybe not as aware as I am ofsome things and the ''correct'' language to use but like. they've got the spirit you know?#and I do think the intent and beong a good person is more important than having the most up to date vocabulary #I'm not gonna label anyone a bad person if their terminology is a little putdated you know?#but then theres stuff like what I just had to deal with #where my neighbours who are lovely people were having a fire in their backyard and asked me to come join them #so I did and a few of their friends were there #and one of them was uhh... questionable imo with some things he was saying but whatever #and then. THEN.#''I'm not prejudiced but-'' followed by possibly the most prejudiced thing I have ever heard spoken irl #and I just-#I guess I forgot there are genuinely people put there like that #and nobody said anything and some even agreed with him #and I didnt say anything because at that point I wasnt even sure if it would be safe to like... I genuinely felt a little unsafe.#so I'm not upset about how I reacted because I know I shouldnt have to make myself feel unsafe just to try to educate someone who #probably wouldn't listen anywY #but like. fuck. I just hate people.

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daincrediblegg · 28 days

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no you know what I'm going to scream about the stuff I talked about in the tags of this post publicly

I'm tired of the well-meaning "don't feel bad if your work only gets 20 notes your genius is what counts and do it for you!" bullshit. I've had a good handful of friends who have straight up DEACTIVATED in recent months because their work was not getting reblogged AT ALL. No, it wasn't from lack of not being well-liked, no it wasn't from lack of trying to make sure it was getting out there to the people they knew would engage with it. It was because no matter how much they were praised privately for their work, when push came to shove, absolutely NOBODY reblogged it and gave it the audience that it was due, and I'm tired of people shoving the "unsung genius" narrative as an excuse for it. Nothing excuses that. And the boop event really proved that.

because I know given the opportunity, indiscriminately pressing a button (sometimes 10 thousand times, as I did) is not beyond this website's capability. y'all loved doing that. and look at what it wrought. nothing but love and affection and happiness. just from a couple of quick clicks of a little paw button. sure. nobody knew who you booped but the other person (which is how likes used to work on this website, btw). there was an element of anonymity to it. but that is kind of the core of this website that no other social media platform still has: the ability to be anonymous. and hyper-curating a blog on here like you might on twitter or instagram to project an image is simply not viable. and hey. you wanna know a secret: literally nobody cares what you post or whether it goes with the "theme" of your blog or not. yeah. I know. CRAZY concept in this day and age. but literally. I myself have reblogged things that have had nothing to do with whatever I am currently fixated by and you know what happened to my follower count? not a damn thing. in fact, I actively try to reblog things specifically BECAUSE it's my friends who made them (even though I'm not always good at KEEPING UP WITH HOW MUCH THEY POST @prismatica-the-strange will NEVER GO UNRECOGNIZED by me).

And you know what fucking sucks? I have to deal with this too. surprise right? you ever wonder why I reblog fics or art I post like 20 times the day that I post them? do you ever wonder why I ask about tag lists and beg for asks all the time? IT'S BECAUSE EVEN I GET LIKE. 5 LIKES ON THE THINGS I POST. AND THE REST OF THE REBLOGS ARE MINE SO I CAN MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE WHAT I MAKE GET TO SEE IT. and I say that knowing that I'm certainly not an unpopular blog, or an unpopular writer. I know that people love the stories that I create. Hell, half of the people that I've talked to about lady terror have told me that they consider her to be canon (AND EVEN SOME!! THOUGHT SHE WAS!!! WITHOUT EVEN HAVING WATCHED THE SHOW! WHICH IS STILL SO SO WILD TO ME!!!) But especially in the last 4 years (which really dates this phenomenon), my posts, no matter how well received they've been amongst people I've talked to about them directly, I still go into the notes and at least half (often more than half) are MY reblogs to make sure people saw what I posted. and it happens every single time, and I can't tell you how much it crushes me considering that it used to be that I would be able to post it only once, and people would reblog it sometimes even HUNDREDS of times.

It's not about popularity. it never has been. it's not about anxiety. or shifting website cultures. even if you lurk, the simple fact is, that if you want people to keep making what you love. you have to reblog. your theme won't suffer because you reblogged a fanfiction that you really admire. your posting won't be ruined because you reblogged some fanart from someone in a different fandom. really. I promise. and if people do unfollow you for that? who needs em. followers come and go but you should NEVER have to cater to them. on this website it has ALWAYS been the other way around. lean into it. make it yours. put stuff you ACTUALLY WANT to be seen and that you love and appreciate on your blog. no matter how old it is, how new it is, no matter how niche or off-theme it is.

so please. if you really want to show your appreciation for someone's work? you reblog. it's really as easy as that. check the tags. add some when you reblog if you like. but please for the love of god reblog. it's as easy as booping and even more rewarding for the people who you reblog from. if you want to let someone know that their work is genius and appreciate it? show it. reblog. then DM them if you're too nervous to say what you want to say but not in a public forum. but for christ's sake. REBLOG.

#fanfiction #fanart #reblogging #boop

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strangersteddierthings · 2 months

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"What's wrong?" Robin asks, bumping her arm against his as she joins him leaning against the counter, staring out the front door of Family Video.

Steve doesn't bother to lie. Robin would know, she always does. "I'm not sure wrong is the right word, but it's, it's something."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Yeah," he says, taking a quick glance around. It's just after 11pm on Saturday. They've got another hour of work before they can officially close, but Hawkins closes down at 9. The store is empty currently, and since they're facing the door, they'll know if someone comes in. "I just don't know- I don't-"

"Gather your words. Speak when you're ready. I'm not going anywhere," Robin says, and it speaks volumes that she didn't call him dingus. Steve's never upset by the nickname, not really, but sometimes, when the conversation is heavy, he can't deal with nicknames. Especially not ones that are meant teasingly now but started as an insult.

"I feel- I feel ungrateful and, like, selfish, because I'm... I'm not happy with Eddie," Steve says, then immediately frowns because that's not right. It's not wrong, either, but it's. "I'm not unhappy with Eddie. I love him. I love him so much, Robin."

"I know you do. It's disgusting."

"And I got into this relationship knowing what Eddie's like. I love him 'cause of those things, not in spite of-"

"You don't have to convince me you love him."

"Right. Right. It's just. It's like, I thought, I don't know, that I wouldn't have to always be the guy?" Steve says, and it's followed by such a long pause that he looks over. It startles a laugh out of him at how much Robin looks like him right now. Confused, brow furrowed and mouth slightly open. That's his perplexed expression, and it's mirrored on Robin's face now.

Well. Not now because he laughed so she's glaring at him.

"Sorry. It was like looking into a mirror for a moment there."

She wrinkles her nose at him and says, "What do you mean 'always be the guy'?"

He lets out a sigh. "I just mean- Eddie's the first guy I've ever dated. And there was, like, unwritten rules when dating girls. Don't give me that face, I already know the rant about straights and their het-ro-norman-whatever-"

"Heteronormativity."

"Yes, that. I know it's bad, working on unlearning it, etcetera, etcetera. Can I just get through this using the words I do have?"

"Yes. Sorry."

He waves off her apology and continues, "So, the unwritten but absolute rules of straight dating. The guy asks. The guy plans the date. He pays, if it's something that requires money. He gets the door, offers his jacket if it's cold, gives the flowers and chocolates on Valentines Day and- sorry. The guy does all that. I do all that. And I just. I want to not, not have to?"

Robin's eyes soften and she gives a sad smile. "Eddie doesn't do those things?"

Steve frowns. "Not- he's done some of those things but it's not... It's never been romantic. Never felt... intentionally romantic. Which is why I feel so ungrateful and selfish. 'Cause Eddie's not a romantic. Not like I am. And I shouldn't expect him to be!"

She frowns. "But you don't expect him to be."

"I mean, yeah. I don't. Which just makes this worse, right? Because Eddie tries. In his own way. And I'm still..."

"What does Eddie do to try?"

"He loans me jackets when I'm cold. And it's- it's like a throwback to the upside down. He'll fold it all nice and then throw it at me full force. Like with the battle vest," Steve smiles at the memory, despite his sour mood.

"That doesn't sound very romantic. That sounds like an inside joke. He could do that same thing while not dating you and it wouldn't be weird."

"Can't an inside joke be romantic?"

Robin nods as she turns, back to the counter so she can hop up on it. "Can be. And I guess if you find get pelted in the face by jackets romantic, that's your kink."

"Why do I talk to you?" Steve groans, and Robin shrugs. "Anyway, I guess I just... I want to be the one taken care of, sometimes, but not just when- God, I'm so selfish, aren't I?" He paces away from the counter, running a hand through his hair.

Eddie's a good boyfriend. He listens when Steve rambles about sports and stats, asking questions and actually engages in conversation. He takes care of Steve when a migraine leaves him all but useless; gets him his meds and water and combs his fingers through Steve's hair softly until it lulls Steve to sleep. Eddie pays attention enough to know the little things about Steve that he doesn't say out loud.

"Not just when?" Robin prompts, and Steve realizes he quit talking.

"Not just when I'm hurt. I want doors held for me, and for him to plan a romantic night, either out or in! And I- I want him to give me his jacket by wrapping it around my shoulders like I do for him."

"I'm going to say something, and you aren't allowed to be upset by it."

Steve nods.

"You have to tell him. Eddie's not gonna know you want these things unless you say so."

He nods again, because he knows that. He does. It's just... "I got with him knowing he wasn't a romantic person. I don't want- I don't know how to say it without making it sound like I want him to change. Or make him feel like he's not enough, or that he's a bad boyfriend for not having done this and-"

"Steve! Jesus, now who's the mirror? It's Eddie. He loves you. He'll listen. Even as you fumble your way through an explanation. A conversation is not the make or break of this relationship."

Steve swallows even though it feels like there's stones piling up in his stomach. A single conversation broke his last relationship, but Eddie's not Nancy.

"Yeah. You're right. I think I'm just... I'm afraid of making Eddie feel that same way Nancy made me feel, when she called us bullshit. I was blinded-sided by it all and I don't, I can't do that to Eddie."

"You won't. 'Cause this situation is different. You love Eddie, and Eddie loves you, and that's real and true. I think it would hurt Eddie more to think there's this whole other category of shit he could be doing for you, but isn't, 'cause he doesn't even know you'd like it, much less want it."

Steve nods as she speaks. It's all true, and he feels less like there are stones in his stomach. "Thanks, Bobbin. I don't- I might give it a few days before I talk to Eddie about it, but I will."

"You better, dingus," she hopes off the counter and looks at the clock, groaning when she sees it's still not midnight. "Think Keith will kill us if we close early?"

"No way. He'd have to cover all our shifts until he can hire replacements. We're too valuable to him to die."

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @skepsiss @afewproblems

#steddie #platonic stobin #my fic #dialogue heavy #steve wants to be woo'd #steve harrington #robin buckley

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jaskierx · 6 months

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anyway posting some thoughts from the discord about how many 'irl relationship' things they're dealing with in ep7 and how much i am eating my mattress about it

they rushed into sex and ed regrets it and that doesn't stop it from having been consensual and fun but the fact that it was consensual and fun doesn't mean that it was a good idea

ed feeling like he can't watch stede make the same mistakes he did but also feeling like he can't ask stede to leave piracy for him when stede is just getting started. and ultimately he's too scared to ask stede to leave piracy for him because what if stede says no? what if stede looks him in the eyes and confirms yes, you are unloveable, yes i'm choosing piracy over you, no i don't love you enough, why would you ever think i could love you enough to do this for you?

just the overall turmoil of being at a different life stage to your partner - like the difficulty of when you're at the beginning of your career and they're established in theirs, or when you've had lots of relationships and they've only had you, or when you're ready to settle down and have kids but they're not, and nobody is in the wrong, it's just difficult

making a breakup about a completely unrelated issue bc you can't voice the actual problem. twisting it into 'we're fundamentally incompatible' (fishermen and pirates are completely different) so you can convince yourself it's not because you're not good enough. if you hit self destruct and leave without explaining things maybe it'll be less painful than opening up about what's actually wrong only to have them throw it back at you and leave you anyway. maybe if i pretend it was never going to work out i don't need to think about why it stopped working in the first place

stede still feeling like he's not good enough for ed and trying to change himself to make himself feel more worthy. unable to comprehend that anyone could possibly love someone so soft and inadequate. feeling like he doesn't even want ed to like him for who he is, feeling insecure that ed only likes him bc he's weak, feeling like he needs to toughen up to earn ed's love. the eternal worry of 'my partner is the best person in the world and i am just a worm so why are they here, why are they staying with me, what's their motive, what can i do to change myself so they actually want to stay for me and not for whatever reason they've got going on'

basically these 18th century gay pirates are experiencing every problem you've ever had with a partner and they're gonna be fine and so are you i love you

#ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd meta #stede bonnet #edward teach #blackbonnet #lyse.jpg

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sassyandclassy94 · 2 years

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*Girls only*

I am so glad that 'the bomb' decided to drop yesterday instead of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, or next Sunday! Why, you ask? Cause imagine having to sit in a car for hours driving to Pennsylvania and worrying about possibly messing up the nice leather seats in your papa's nice fancy truck. Or sitting in the theatre for hours hoping you'll be okay until intermission. Or messing up the hotel sheets (mortifying!!). Or having to sit in church for three hours on your heaviest day. And THEN imagine having to entertain a guest (who happens to be your crush) while also hiding the fact that the literal Battle of Agincourt is going on in your uterus.

Bottom line is, I am so thankful that I'm getting the worst days of my cycle over with before my trip to Sight & Sound (SO EXCITED!!) and my birthday dinner.

#personal #Abby's rants & rambles #Girl problems #I am so thankful I was born a woman and dealing with menstruation makes me feel like super human but man am I glad when I happen to avoid #getting it at an inconvenient time #REGARDLESS... it's kind of a cool thing though?#Like your body literally throws a fit when she doesn't get pregnant #Like GIRL!! I am SORRY that I don't have a husband who can fix your problems! Ever wonder that maybe I wish I had one too??#What she doesn't know is that I just so happen to have my eye on someone... I'm just waiting to find out how God feels about him.#Or maybe she does know... and the reason they've been more uncomfortable than usual is because she's mad that this process is so slow lol #Girl relax! All in God's timing if it's His will - and if it is then you'll eventually get your way and skip as many periods as God allows #ANYWAY... just ignore these tags lol #I'm at the age where I should start having a moment of silence for a wasted egg though... :(#This is my last one as 27 - the last of my mid-20s and it's actually really depressing...#I'm getting closer and closer to 30 and you know what that means for a woman? Its when her ovaries begin to shrivel up and die :'(#The sunset starts to appear in the distance...#I also have this nagging feeling in my gut that I may be infertile anyway... Don't ask me why I feel that way - I just do.#And I don't want to think about it...#I mean I don't know if I even want children because they don't like me and because of how the government tries to own them #But I still want the option just in case ya know???#Oh well... like Mama says: Don't trouble trouble till trouble troubles you.

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russellsppttemplates · 2 months

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Never letting you go (Max Verstappen)

There was nothing stopping you and Max now

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first Max big piece to sort of introduce their arc, let me know what you think! ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions Jos forbidding Max and reader of dating, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"What do you mean you're going to the Grand Prix?", you quirked your brow as your friend Cara sipped her coffee, "I thought you said you'd never be caught dead one of those", you chuckled.

"Matthew's company got a bunch of passes because they got a deal with one of the sponsors - I think? - I don't know much about it, all I know is that he brought three home because he thought you'd like to join us", she offered.

You never hid how much you enjoyed watching Formula One, even if watching it, especially in the last couple of years, often brought emotionally heavy memories back.

"That's nice, count me in! What type of passes are they?", you questioned, taking a bite from the cake on your plate.

"I don't know, he was talking all about them and I must admit I zoned out", she admitted, "but he said they were really good! He was very surprised at what the passes had, but his boss is very cheap so I don't know how great they actually are considering the possible comparison", she smiled as you nodded, "count me in, though. It's been a while since I stepped foot on one of them", you recalled.

The last race you attended was when Max was in Formula Three still. The paddock was so big and crowded with so many people, you doubted you'd bump into him. It wouldn't do you any good, would it?

"How did you get hospitality passes?", you gasped as Matthew handed you the lanyard, "they've invested a lot of money so I guess the sponsors didn't mind loosening the belt", he shrugged, putting his own around his neck after scanning it.

"Thank you for this, by the way", you flashed him a smile, "no worries, Y/N, the only way I could convince her to come was if you joined us, and I don't mind actually spending the weekend with someone who also knows a little about the sport", he chuckled as Cara laced her arms with her fiancé, "I'm glad he has you to talk to as well, there's only so much feigned interest I can muster up", she rolled her eyes.

Scuderia Alpha Tauri had been Toro Rosso, but despite the name change, as soon as you walked in, some faces were still familiar from the pictures you got sent from Max on gia first season with them.

"Why did you get interested in Formula One anyway?", Matthew asked you while you sipped on a latte, "I always loved the idea of the cars going very very fast, and then when I actually had the knowledge to understand how they worked, they really intrigued me", you offered, "I also had a friend who was very into it, so he also escalated my interest in it".

"He didn't pull you enough to work on motor sport though?", Matt wondered.

"I didn't enjoy the competitiveness of all of it", you admitted, "it's very strict, and if you want to be successful, it takes the good things away - your family, your friends", you opened your heart to him, thankfully noticing it and sorting the heartfelt confession seemingly about a job, "they travel a lot and they're really competitive that is, I'd never be able to do that for a job", you smiled, hoping you saved yourself from further questions.

"That's why you did mechanical engineering, then?", he asked, "for the most part, yes", you replied, "Oh, they're starting free practice", you smiled, looking over to the track from the balcony seats.

Sophie walked into the RedBull hospitality, looking for her family. Because it was Monaco, they felt safe enough to bring the Lio and Luka to the paddock, knowing they would be close to home in case things didn't go well as planned.

"Grandma!", the oldest boy called her from his spot on his father's lap, his brother sleeping on his mother's chest.

"Hey, my dears", she greeted, "You won't believe who I found on my way here", Sophie began, "I'm surprised Max didn't tell me he invited Y/N. It's a shame she isn't here with us, though", she commented.

The first indicator of surprise should be the way the blond woman looked at her mother, "what do you mean Y/N is here?", she whisper-yelled.

"I just saw her in the Alpha Tauri hospitality, I was walking with Helmut and he was headed there, that's when I noticed her. Max didn't tell you?", she quirked an eyebrow just as her son sat down next to them.

"What didn't I tell who?", Max spoke, setting his plate of food down on the table.

"Why didn't you tell us you invited Y/N for this weekend?", Victoria was the first to scold him, hitting his arm in a sisterly manner, "and in Alpha Tauri of all places? I'm sure they would've bent the rules a little and give you a pass so she could be a RedBull guest!".

Max thought he heard incorrectly. Y/N, his Y/N was in the paddock, in the sister team of the one he now drove for.

"I, I didn't offer her anything", Max said, his brother in-law looking at him weirdly as well, "I don't know how or why she is here, but I had nothing to do with it. We haven't spoken in a while", he mumbled. A while, three years, same thing, he supposes.

"Well, I just saw her. You should go say hi, I'm sure she would love to but she can't exactly find you where she is, it has to be the other way around", Sophie offered.

"What makes you believe she would?", Max questioned, both himself and his mother and sister.

"Because the way you never forgot her, she never forgot you", Victoria sterned, "don't you think she deserves your attention? She was in it for the long run, Max, and maybe she has moved on, maybe even has someone", the thought alone made Max loose his cool, "but she was your friend, the person you trusted most in the world and you let her slip".

"Don't sugar coat it, please", Max sarcastically replied.

"It's true, Max, and you know it", Sophie said, sensing her son didn't want to talk about the topic, but not allowing him to leave the table without a piece of her mind as well.

Max needed to put on his suit again, ready for qualifying, walking along the corridor until he found his door.

"Hey, before you go", Victoria called her brother as he was about to go into his driver's room, "Lio is really fussy, so we're just going back to your place, I'm sorry", she said.

"It's fine, whatever you feel the most comfortable with", he said, waving at his nephews and brother in-law.

"We will be supporting you from home, then", she said, kissing his cheek, "And Max? I know you're not used to it, but follow your heart", she smiled.

"Can I do that now?", he softly bit back, smiling and blushing at his words.

"What's stopping you?", Victoria said as she walked back to her family.

"Who is that?", Jos asked as Max asked him if he could invite you over for dinner before the season began.

The conversations with Toro Rosso were getting serious and the opportunity for a seat in Formula One was right there, up for him to grab if he worked enough.

"She's my friend, you know Y/N", Max tried to reason with his father.

"For this to work, Max, I think you need to distance yourself from home", Jos advised, ignoring his mention of you and carrying on with his lecture, "I'm talking no parties, no trips to come and see friends and family - I really think those are just getting in the way between you and the career you deserve".

The statement was clear, and Max knew better than to question it.

"I've spoken to your mother - she wasn't the biggest fan -, but you really need to focus on this", Jos reiterated, "no friends, much less girlfriends", he chuckled.

The dinner ended up being just Jos, Max and Victoria, the thought of having you there quickly erased in his head.

When Max met up with you before he left for the season, he was antsy. Just a week before, you had stolen innocent kisses from eachother's lips and revelled in the feeling of being in eachother's embrace without a care in the world. And it felt good, so good, like the piece that was missing in Max's life finally completed the puzzle.

"Hey", you greeted, kissing the corner of his lips and allowing him to pull you down to sit on the sofa.

"I spoke to my dad, I'm leaving in a few days", Max said, "there's some testing they want me to do still", he mumbled, lacing your fingers in his.

"And where do we end up?", you asked the million euro question. Truthfully, you entertained the thought. Even though being away from Max for most of the year would be a challenge, the love you felt for him was too big, too great for you to forgo that challenge. You were his and he would be yours.

"It's not going to work, Y/N. I need to focus on racing", he stated blankly despite how much it hurt him to utter those words out to you as the conversation with his father resonated with him.

"Max your focus is getting a Formula One seat", his father sterned, "do you know how hard it is? How much effort and work you have to put in? There can't be any distractions!"

"But Y/N isn't a distraction!", Max reasoned. If anything, you were the one keeping him humble and with both feet on the ground at all times. You cared for him, not because of his racing, who he was or who he could become, but because you loved eachother.

You'd never do anything to ruin his career, Max thought as he worked up the courage to tell you all of it. He couldn't get distracted, not now. He couldn't afford making mistakes because he had a girlfriend back at home waiting on him.

Your understanding, however, wasn't aligned with his expectations. He hoped you'd fight, at least, but you swalled your tears and nodded, "okay, Max. I hope you get your seat, you deserve it so much, I know it will happen".

Max put in on pole, leaving you to smile and snap a picture of the moment, wondering if you'd have the courage to send it to him.

"So, does this mean it's over?", Cara asked, "Because I could do with going home, actually", she nudged.

"Let's go, then!", you smiled, putting your phone in your bag and looking for the way out, ending up following the other guests into the paddock.

"Y/N, dear!", you heard someone call your name, and on cue, you looked for the voice despite the fact that it wad unlikely someone recognised you there.

Sophie didn't age, you thought, as you looked at the source of the voice that called you.

"I'm not going to hold you up, guys, you can go!", you smiled, waving at Matthew and Cara once you assured them you would be fine.

"I'm sorry, Sophie - they're my friends, and he was the one who got the passes from his office", you apologised for leaving her to wait a little for you.

"It's alright, dear. It's been so long since I've seen you", she nudged, "I'm sure Max would love to see you, too!", she jumped straight in.

"Would he, though?", you squinted your eyes.

"He would, Y/N", Sophie said earnestly, "I saw you this morning - at Alpha Tauri -, and he knows you're here", she smiled, "I'm assuming you're watching the race, too. Pay him a visit, okay?", she rubbed your shoulder and left a kiss on your cheek, "He's also my ride home, so I need to go look for him! Bye, Y/N!".

Race day meant rush everywhere, so you got to the paddock just in time before everyone rushed inside, finding the perfect spot to watch the race.

"I need to take this call, one second", you said to Cara, recognising Max's contact on your phone.

"Y/N, hi! I didn't think you'd pick up actually", you could hear the nervousness on his voice, "thanks for the picture, by the way, it was very... nice".

"It's no problem really, I thought it would be a good memory to keep", you smiled, "are you ready for the race? Or do you want me to give you a pep talk?", you chuckled. Back in the day, whenever he didn't feel too confident about a race, you had the power to help him out his head in the right place and bring his winning mentality to light.

"I'm fine, actually", he smiled, "I- I was wondering if you'd like to meet up later", he gulped, "I'd like to talk to you, but it's difficult until the race finishes, and then debriefs and media and all that".

"Sure, text me when you're done then", you stated boldly, "have a good race Max, you know I'm supporting you".

"Even if you're with Alpha Tauri?", he joked.

"I never stopped supporting you, it's not going to be a guest pass that's going to change it", you said as he bid you goodbye, ending the call and finding your friends.

When Max won, you clapped unashamedly as everyone else seemed to join you in your excitement, and after the race celebrations were done with, you waited patiently for the text to get to your phone.

"So you're staying back?", Cara asked, "I am, I'm meeting a friend", you explained. At her curious stare, you furthered, "do you remember the guy I told you about when you tried to set up that double date?", she nodded, "yes, the guy you were friends with, and when you both wanted to take a step forward, he had this big shot as his dream career and his father wouldn't allow him to date anyone", she said as she realized, "my goodness, he's here? Y/N, go for it!", she encouraged, "I know you still have feelings for him, who knows? Maybe this is your chance to reconnect", she rubbed your shoulder.

After you bid goodbye to Cara and Matthew, a text go through to your phone.

From: Max

Mum is waiting for you at the door :)

Approaching the hospitality, you quickly spotted Sophie, "c'mon in, dear! Max wanted me to get you myself, he was afraid no one would ler you in", she chuckled, guiding you through until you were in their dining area.

"Y/N!", Max beamed, setting down the crayons he was drawing with at the table with Luka and walking up to you.

"Hey everyone!", you waved at Victoria, putting a pin the two little boys' curious stares as they looked at you so you could hug Max.

"Congratulations, Max, I knew you could do it", you whispered into his skin, his arms hugging you so tightly against him.

"Thank you, Y/N", he spoke, "I missed you so much, I missed this so much", he squeezed you one more time before allowing you to greet the rest of his family.

"This is Tom, and that's Lio and Luka", Victoria said after she hugged you tighlty, "say hi, guys!", she encouraged as the two little copies of Max waved back at you.

"We're going to head home, it was great seeing you, Y/N!", Sophie announced, "I'm sure we'll see eachother a lot more from now on", Victoria complimented, helping her husband pack up the kids' belongings and toys so they could retire to Max's apartment.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner sometime this week", he jumped straight forward, "I'm having dinner with the team today and then the rest of the grid want to go to the club, so I wouldn't be able to spend that much time with you, and I want to be able to just focus on you", he smiled.

"That's fine by me, I appreciate the thought", you smiled as he led you to one of the tables, asking one of the caffé staff for something to drink for the two of you.

“Listen, I think, I think we found each again for a reason", he began boldly, not sure if this was the way to go after not having spoken to you in a couple of years. Still, it wasn't a lie.

"Define found, considering we've been iving in the same city for nearly a year", you smiled, "although you don't spend much time here anyway, so I guess that's a nice enough excuse", you teased, your foot tapping his shin playfully under the table.

"So, Monaco, hm?", Max started, "I didn't expect you to live here out of all places", he nudged, wanting to know more about your move but afraid he was stepping in vulnerable territory.

"I did it because of my earnings for sure. I've got to save as much as I can on tax on the fortune I make as a female engineer", you sternly said as he looked the most surprised you'd ever seen him, "I'm joking - not all of us move to Monaco so our million euro salaries have better taxes", you teased.

"Why did you do it, then?", he asked, smiling at how familiar it all seemed. Just like old times, he thought.

"The company I work for was the one that needed the tax benefits", you clicked your tongue, "and they wanted people to move here. Only one of my colleagues moved here with her whole family, as they expected, so they ended up calling the ones that weren't attached to anything or anyone in particular, and I was one of them", you shrugged your shoulders, "I moved to a new country with a different language, the only people I knew were my work colleagues, so I had no one to complain about them to, but I make it work - at least I like to think I do", you smiled.

Not attached to anyone, he recalled, humming at your response, "it's not such a bad place to live, right? Granted I don't spend much time year, but still enough to appreciate it", Max spoke.

"How about you, Mr World Champion", you nudged, "how does it feel?".

"Obviously it's great, and everything that I worked for", he added, knowing the underlying topic in the conversation, "I get to drive fast cars and I travel the world, there's not much left for it to be the complete dream", he said, gingerly touching your fingers over the table and accepting your hold when you laced them together.

Conversation was flowing easily until one of the employees told Max that he would have to go and get ready for the dinner, meaning you would have to part ways.

"Does Tuesday work for you? I'm not sure how well I'll be tomorrow", he chuckled, "yes, that's fine by me, just text me the address and the time", you smiled, getting up and kissing his cheek, "have a good time, Max, but be careful with the alcohol, I'd hate to have to pick you up again", you reminded him of the time he got way too drunk and he insisted he would only go home if you came to pick him up.

Dinner was great and Max invited you back to his place, hoping you'd be able to talk properly about the elephant in the room in a more private and comfortable place.

"You're struggling there, aren't you? Even with your itty bitty small hands?", Max teased as your pinky just about stretched enough for you to not lose everything by dumping the contents of your bag on the sidewalk.

As you and Max left the restaurant, you fiddled with your wallet in your bag, hoping to keep the card the waiter gave you safe for the next time you wanted to visit the place.

"I do not have itty bitty small hands!", you argued, shaking your bag a little to make sure everything was safely in place.

"We need to have the same starting line - like", you rearranged them so your wrists would be touching. Still, it didn't make much of a difference on your end. It looked like it even highlighted a few more differences, "yours is much bigger, I give up", you giggled.

"See?", Max said as he held your hand out against his, "these are the size of fairy hands! Tinkerbell probably has bigger hands than yours!", he exclaimed as you noticed how much bigger his hand was compared to yours. His fingers were a little bit thicker than yours and his palm covered all of your hand almost completely.

Now or never, Max thought as he laced your fingers in his once you let your arms drop and rest by your side. His thumb rubbed your skin and warmed you up, "was this your plan all along?", you wondered, feeling the bravery around you two and choosing to act on it.

"Lacing my hand in yours or proving to you that my biggest mistake was letting you go all of those years ago?", Max stated as he looked deeply into your eyes.

"We should talk about this inside", you bit your lip, allowing him to guide you through the apartment complex he lived in.

His living room was decorated in classy tones, probably with the help of him mother and sister, as you sat down on the sofa and face eachother.

"I know I apologised at the time, but I'm still sorry, Y/N", Max said, "at the time it was the dream and I didn't have much room for my own decisions. Still, I should've fought", he concluded.

"You didn't blatantly acknowledge it and decided we couldn't be together, Max", you conforted despite the hurt you felt at the time, "it hurt, - like a bitch actually -, but not because you were following your dream. I never wanted to pull you back and get in the way of your achievements", you gulped, "but I would be lying if I said I wouldn't like to give this a go, to give us a chance", you smiled.

"I know I have crazy schedules - I am barely here during the season -, but you were always the one I thought about. When I first raced in F1, when I got my first podium, my first win, my bad races - I wanted you there", he admitted, blue eyes looking into yours, "I can't promise that it will be easy, but I'll never risk you or our relationship, that's non negotiable", he stated.

Moving closer to him, you cupped his cheek with your palm, the slight stubble tickling your skin, "I'm in, Max", you smiled, taking the plunge and kissing his mouth, lips moving in sync as his hands pulled you into his lap.

The blissful moment was interrupted by a meow, Jimmy and Sassy walking into the living room, "Oh, guys", Max held you close to him as the cats sniffled you, "this is Jimmy and Sassy, my cats, took then long enough to leave the guest bedroom", he smiled as you tried to pet them, "cute, they seem nice enough - for cats anyway".

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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omgkalyppso · 8 months

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BG3 Act 1 asks

I am intentionally putting the number of the inquiry at the end of each question also because I have a pet peeve that when you copy paste questions into an ask that the number doesn't carry over.

Tell us about your Tav! Name, class and subclass, race, pronouns. Do you have a headcanon for where they're from? Their family? Are they a Dark Urge? Or did you choose an Origin Character? Was it an easy decision? (1)

Was there something about the character creator that just couldn't capture your Character? Please tell us about their hair, facial hair, tattoos, piercings, disabilities, their trans or intersex body, or anything else you're comfortable sharing. (2)

Has your Character been using their illithid powers? (3)

Do you remember in which order you recruited your companions? Which companion introduction would have felt the most familiar / like home to your Tav / Character? (4)

Do you remember the first humanoid enemy your Character killed? Was it the first person they've ever killed, in your opinion? Would they have been bothered by it? (5)

Were you able to save everyone when the goblins stormed the gates at the Grove? (6)

Did you enter the Grove? (7)

Do you have a favorite member of the Druid Circle? Is it the same as your Character's? (8)

Do you have a favorite member of the Tiefling Refugees? Is it the same as your Character's? (9)

Do you have a favorite member of the Goblin Camp? Is it the same as your Character's? (10)

Do you have a favorite member of the Act 1 Githyanki? Is it the same as your Character's? (11)

Do you have a favorite member of the Zhentarim? Is it the same as your Character's? (12)

Do you have a favorite character from the Underdark? Is it the same as your Character's? (13)

Do you have another NPC you loved from a faction not mentioned above? What about your Character? (14)

How did the situation with the Grove, the Tieflings and the Goblins turn out for your Character? (15)

Did you save Halsin? (16)

What does your Character think of Withers? (17)

How did your Character deal with Wyll, Karlach and Mizora? (18)

Did your Character spend a night with a companion either the night of the party or earlier? Is it someone they have a continued interest in? (19)

How did you deal with The Artist - Oskar Fevras? Did you even encounter him? (20)

What are your Character's thoughts on the strange artifact that was in Shadowheart's possession? Did it jump to your pack because you changed her out of your party? (21)

How did your Character resolve the situation with Sovereign Glut, if you met them? (22)

What are your Character's thoughts on the dream visitor? (23)

Was your illithid tadpole empowered by anything in Act 1? If so, how does your Character feel about that? (24)

Did your Character take the mountain pass? (25)

What was your favorite enemy? Did your Character have any memorable fights or moments in combat that were ripe for headcanons and interpretation? (26)

Who ended up in your Character's most used party? (27)

Did you recruit Scratch the dog? Did you encounter him at all? (28)

Did you adopt an owlbear? Do you have a name for your child? (29)

Do you have other pets as a ranger or in headcanon? (30)

Does your Character have new or old phobias or superstitions that affect their story? (31)

What's your Character's experience with and opinion of Volo? (32)

Has your Character allied with the cult of the Absolute? (33)

How did your Character resolve the situation with Nere and the gnomes? (34)

Has your Character done anything that they regret in Act 1? (35)

Did your Character find the Adamantine Forge? Did they use it? What did they make? (36)

Did your Character find the Necromancy of Thay? How are they handling it / planning to handle it? (37)

Did your Character meet Barcus Wroot? How's he doing? (38)

What does your Character think of Raphael? (39)

Is your Character used to strange dreams from before the events of the adventure? (40)

Is your Character accustomed to being on the road from before the events of the adventure? (41)

Has your Character been to the Underdark from before the events of the adventure? (42)

Asker has a question not from the list. (43)

Asker wants Blogger to choose a question from the list. (44)

I love your oc's! I hope you're enjoying the game as much as I am!

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #long post #feel free to send me asks about étoile

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astrologanize · 2 months

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pick a card : what making out with you feels like for them ᡣ𐭩…

could be someone you're already seeing or your future person, whatever it is...whoever you are asking about...this is what it feels like for them (: *please take a moment to take a deep breath and choose the image you are most drawn towards*

for pile 1 ✩˚

well, hello there. while trying to channel and synthesize this spread i thought about how this pile has something very instinctive going on within the makeout sessions, there's viscera, and cillian murphy came to mind somehow?? he does have a very mars look imo so maybe that's why, but it reminded me of a gif that i believe is from peaky blinders (never seen the show but i exist on tumblr so...) that i will add (it's a lil nsfw i guess?). anyhow. when it comes to your makeouts with this person, it feels like a nice balance of release and control for them because on one hand they do feel very disarmed while making out with you but at the same time they're acting deliberately - which is why instinct is coming through...it's like having a flow of reflexive movement. i'm not seeing you two going crazy and having vigorous kisses, there is a slowness to it, there's a building of inertia. making out with you makes them feel like their life is in their hands, their free will is palpably felt, and it brings out a sort of self-discipline in them

for pile 2 ✩˚

this person looooooves making out with you, they feel like they're having a movie moment when you guys are kissing, and the connection itself is what is at the forefront when they're kissing you. this seems like someone who hasn't had great experiences with romance and making out with you imbues them with so much hope. it's like if this person had a horribly messy breakup a couple years prior, they were with someone for quite a while and it ended up turning into a nightmare that left an ugly mark and they became jaded by it. making out with you feels like a rebirth - they don't feel afraid, they feel uninhibited, their cup is wonderfully full. they are not in the slightest bit doubtful of how they feel for you and they are certain that they want this; when they kiss you it will feel like a sweet plead - please love me back. there is no ego when it comes to kissing you because they are happily willing to give their all. making out with you does help them to move on from any residual gunk they've been dealing with

for pile 3 ✩˚

what is wanting to come through strongly is that this person is the one somehow taking the lead in the makeout session because when they're making out with you they feel firm, they feel empowered, they're like 'i got this'. lol...funnily enough though, whatever it is about making out with you...they don't expect it to go the way it does and it throws them off their game. something about making out with you is new for them, there's a notable oscillation happening within them, an internal battle of hot n cold energy. the makeout session itself won't be all over the place, once you start making out you guys just keep going at a constant and indefinite pace. this person is probably used to getting what they want/doing what they want/being reckless, this person is hardened - they keep their feelings in check and like being in control. & even though they feel in control while making out with you and do like feeling as such, there's something about making out with you that wakes them up and brings out a softer side. making out with you feels like a stream of consciousness for them

for pile 4 ✩˚

this is my fun makeout sesh pile 😛

what you guys say to each other before/during making out is being highlighted so maybe there's some steamy words being exchanged, some sweet talkin' perhaps. y'alls makeout session(s) involves experimenting, it's messy, it's sloppy, there's coloring outside the lines, it's an indulgence and you guys change things up during it. it does seem like this is more casual and that this person might be hesitant to take things further. this may be someone who is really attached to their independence and/or is perpetually single so even though they're having fun with it, they are holding back and not giving their all. making out with you is going to make them try to consider and factor feelings into the equation, they may just take the leap for once

love this song for pile 4

#pick a card #romance #relationships #Spotify

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theminecraftbee · 7 months

Text

There are several things Martyn realizes, all at once, when he opens his eyes:

He is dreaming.

It's one of those in-between dreams, the ones that aren't quite dreams.

He is sitting at a green felted table. It is sitting on a stage. The lighting is dim, and no one is watching, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the stagehands dressed in black, waiting.

He is not the only one sitting at the table. There is a Watcher, draped in purple. There is a Listener, draped in yellow. There is someone he recognizes in a red sweater. There is someone he thinks he should recognize, but can't quite, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Right. What's all this, then," he mutters.

We are playing blackjack, the Listener says.

We are deciding the rules, the Watcher says.

"It's not like we have anything better to do. Honestly, I'm glad you're here. Do you know how boring these guys are?" Grian says, and Martyn decides to quietly file Grian away as a dream-Grian, as opposed to real-life-Grian, so he doesn't go insane and/or stab him when he wakes up. He waits for the almost-familiar dealer to say something. He does not. After another few moments of awkward nonsense dream-silence, Martyn sighs and leans forward on the table.

"Sure, this might as well be happening," Martyn says. "Deal me in. How's the betting work, again?"

"You put your bet on the table. If you beat the dealer, you get to add it to the game," Grian explains. "If you don't beat the dealer, it takes it."

"Yeah, but like, that's abstract, isn't it? What does that mean, exactly, me losing what I bet if I don't beat the dealer," Martyn says.

Grian shrugs. "Don't ask me. To be honest, I'm hardly the storyteller you are."

"Me? Why are you acting like I have any control over these things when you're--"

Are you ready to play?

Martyn shuts up, looks at the Listener, and sighs. "Yeah, sure, I'm ready to play. Why not."

The dealer looks to its left. Grian sighs. "Why are you making me bet first. Again. We should rotate where we're sitting--fine, fine, I know it's an advantage because I'm the worst at this. Uh. Hm. No trading or giving away lives again. Not even as time or something. It makes the dynamics all weird, and I think we could use a nice straightforward death game next time."

(Martyn wants to roll his eyes. Nice and straightforward. Sure.)

The Watcher goes next. I would like there to be deep and wonderful bonds between the players. I would like those bonds to seem unbreakable.

"Coming from you, that's ominous," Martyn says.

Can I not just miss the alliances of the early days? the Watcher says.

"Never left the desert," Grian says, rolls his eyes, and looks at Martyn in commiseration. Martyn just stares back. So sue him, he's a bit more worried about this whole concept than an eye roll and a pithy phrase. Things Watchers want are rarely good.

When the bonds are enforced, they're less interesting, complains the Listener.

Martyn looks over sharply. Hey, wait, he thought--

I didn't say they had to be enforced by rule. I said they had to be deep. Encouraged, as opposed to discouraged.

Just saying. You'll never recapture Third Life.

Martyn swallows. His throat is dry. Weren't the Listeners supposed to be the good guys, here?

Besides, what I want is for each death to be meaningful again. They've felt too meaningless, lately, the Listener continues.

Martyn thinks the dealer raises an eyebrow, but it strikes him he's not exactly sure. Grian snorts. "Meaningful deaths. That's rich for you to say. I mean, I guess they're meaningful sometimes? I don't know, Martyn's the one who understands dramatic sacrifices, I just like killing things."

"Why do you keep on looking at me when you say those things," Martyn says.

"Look, you wouldn't be here if you weren't helping write," Grian says.

"What?" Martyn says.

We're here to play our cards for the story, the Watcher says. Aren't you also one of the authors?

"Me? What? No, I'm--what are you talking about," Martyn says.

Oh, well. I also hope your meaningful deaths make it in, the Watcher says the Listener.

Thanks, even if I disagree on the bonds, the Listener says.

"They hardly ever talk about real, concrete rules they want," complains Grian. "It's easier to understand the consequence if they bring up actual rules. Like boogeyman or no boogeyman."

"We're all just betting on cards!" Martyn says, throwing his hands up. "You're giving me a headache!"

It's your bet.

"Fine!" Martyn says. "Fine! You know what? Screw all of you. I hope this is the last one. I hope we never have to go back to that stupid death game. I hope it's miserable to watch or to listen to or to play and everyone just gives up. How's that for a bet?"

You're no fun.

Is that what you really want?

"Suit yourself," Grian says. "Honestly, if I still had that to bet, I guess I probably would."

"What do you mean, if you still had that to bet?"

"Well, I mean, that's not how blackjack works, is it? I don't just get back my in when I play it."

The dealer nods, and then silently, with a long bony hand, deals the cards.

Grian is dealt the four of diamonds. The Watcher is dealt the nine of spades. The Listener is dealt the five of clubs. Martyn is dealt a jack of spades. The dealer deals itself a seven of hearts. The dealer deals Grian a six of clubs--

"Hey, isn't that supposed to be face-down?" Martyn asks.

"Not here," Grian explains. "They're all face up so we can't touch the cards. So we don't have to. So we can't cheat."

"Who said anything about cheating?" Martyn says.

"Please," Grian says.

The dealer makes a hand motion. Martyn, grumpily, falls silent. He supposes they're playing by casino rules, then. He hasn't been in a casino since--he wouldn't know. Hard to remember anything that isn't this, isn't it? Isn't killing and dying and things out of his control and things very much in his control and, apparently, bizarre dream sequences designed to make him want to strangle Grian.

Anyway. Grian is dealt a six of clubs, giving him ten. The Watcher is given an eight of spades, giving it seventeen. The Listener is dealt a king of hearts, giving it fifteen. Martyn is given a six of clubs, giving him sixteen. The dealer deals its own second card face-down. Martyn stops to try to speak, and then shuts his mouth. Right. Dealer's advantage.

He stares at the numbers.

Grian sighs. "Well, I've got to double down, don't I? Fine. I want the whole 'red lives can kill' thing to be enforced somehow. I don't care how. There's my double down."

The dealer nods.

"Why would you want that," Martyn says blankly.

If we all win, that will be interesting with the bonds, the Watcher says mildly.

Grian shrugs. "I mean, we've enforced red names not befriending green names, but not the murder thing before. Figure we should switch up the game, right?"

"Why?" Martyn says again.

Well, it wouldn't do for it to be boring.

"No, not that. Just... isn't it easier to handle when the rules are laid out properly?"

Martyn throws his hands up, but stops arguing. The dealer gives Grian a face-down card. The dealer moves to the next party at the table.

The Watcher looks over at the dealer and makes a cutting-off motion. I stand.

The dealer moves on. Hit me, the Listener says, and is dealt the queen of diamonds. The Listener gestures to Martyn. It seems I bust. Pity. I suppose there will be no guarantee of meaning, then. Not what I'd prefer.

The dealer looks at Martyn. Martyn looks at the other hands. Martyn pauses.

"Wait, this is like, casino blackjack, yeah? I'm only playing against you, not the whole table?"

"Why would you be playing against us?" Grian says. "Writing's a collaborative process."

Martyn looks entreatingly at the Listener, but the Listener is a little too caught up in the bad hand it has been dealt. Martyn looks entreatingly at the Watcher, but the Watcher just looks somehow confused.

"I was under the impression that, I don't know, you all were adversarial."

Why? All we want is the same thing as you: the story to be told a certain way.

Martyn's not sure if he's furious or just numb.

"Fine. Got a sixteen, don't I? Hit me."

Two of spades.

He's furious. He wants to win against the dealer. He wants to win against everyone. He wants his idea to make it through. He has an eighteen, though. There are only two numbers in the deck that will not bust him, and he's no fool. Hitting on sixteen is a risk enough; if he wants his stupid bet of everything finally ending to make it through, he's got to hold here.

"I hold," he says through gritted teeth.

The dealer silently deals itself another card. A three of hearts. Distantly, Martyn's ears rush. He could have taken that. He could have taken the hit. He could have won. He could have had blackjack, and he doesn't know what the extra payout for blackjack even means in a game like this one, but he could have had it, and he held back, he didn't take the risk, he didn't--

The dealer flips up its cards. Seven, eight, three. Eighteen.

Martyn's heart pounds. A stand-off.

Grian flips up his own card and groans. It's a five of diamonds. "There goes that bet," he mutters.

The dealer makes a sweeping motion around the table. The Watcher smiles, a terrible, terrible thing. Martyn, all at once, realizes that he can't ask again. He can't say 'this is guaranteed to be the last one' again. He backs out of his chair. To the sides, he sees the stagehands change the lighting. A spotlight, on him and the dealer--

"That isn't fair," he says. "It's a tie. I should get my bet back, right? It's a tie!"

THAT IS WHERE WE DIFFER FROM THE HOUSES IN VEGAS, the dealer says, and Martyn's heart stops.

(The voice is familiar. Familiar, but he cannot place it.)

YOU SEE, IN THIS GAME, THERE IS ALWAYS ONE THING THAT HAS AN ADVANTAGE. ONE THING THE STORY IS ALWAYS PLAYING AGAINST. ONE THING, THAT INEVITABLY, AFTER LONG ENOUGH PLAYING, WILL WIN.

There, the dealer looks Martyn in the eyes, and Martyn, all at once, knows exactly what the dealer must be.

AND THAT IS ME.

Martyn stares Death in the eyes.

Then, in a cold sweat, Martyn wakes up.

He does not sleep again for a long time.

#trafficblr #martyn inthelittlewood #grian #the watchers #the listeners #a bee fic #this is me getting ALL OF MY MOST PRETENTIOUS URGES OUT before i go write more giftfic #literally all my most favoritest pretentious tropes. death personified. weird audience/writer avatar watchers and listeners. cards.#the series abstracted as a stage show. martyn being tired and confused.#really really ominous portents of the next game that hasn't actually happened yet #this is what self-indulgence looks like. if you're me.#there could not be. a more me fic.#anyway. ANYWAY. martyn doesn't understand why he's here. but why WOULDN'T he be here?#out of everyone in the series he's one of the ones who shapes the narrative the most after all

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hanjsquokka · 2 months

Text

Caramel Macchiato - [ Kim Seungmin ]

🩷 SYNOPSIS : Seungmin hated the morning shift. He hated the way some people thought they could say whatever they wanted to him just because he wasn't able to hand them their scalding hot drink quick enough. You were an enigma of sorts the second he saw you walk in. And suddenly, the six hours he spent every day were too short.

GENRE : fluff, strangers to potential lovers

PAIRING : barista!seungmin × f!barista!reader

CONTENT WARNING : none

WORD COUNT : 2.5K

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I honestly had a lot of fun writing this even though I'm not that satisfied with the ending. The title is inspired by BTS' song Coffee, which is one of my favorites (yes, I wrote it with Jungkook's voice in mind). Hope you enjoy <3 (part of valentines collab with @stayconnecteed )

The bristly cloth of a rag scratched his palms as Seungmin wiped down the counter. The morning rush died down, leaving behind a quiet lull in the coffee shop he was working in. He looked up at the clock. Five more hours until his shift ended. It had been nearly a week since the manager of the shop asked him to work the morning shift rather than the evening one because they were down an employee. Seungmin didn't want to. He really didn't. He hoped the blank stare would send a clear message — please go find someone else — but the man simply didn't understand that. Since the money for his vocal lessons were coming from the very paycheck the manager said he'd bump up, Seungmin reluctantly agreed.

The morning rush hour was a living nightmare. Annoyed and moody adults trying to get their daily dose of caffeine before they headed to their jobs they willingly applied to with a sour face, barking at whoever talked back to them until they've had a shot of expresso. Then they would get mad when he didn't make their coffee fast enough. He'd nearly bit his tongue off trying to hold back a sharp reply that would easily get him in trouble. Instead, he swallowed back the sentences and continued doing his work, trying his best to ignore them.

Seungmin didn't understand why those people were like that. Obviously he'd give them what they ordered for. Handling hot, steaming coffee was difficult. And even with two people on deck, the coffee shop was located in mid downtown — of course there would be a lot of people rushing in.

He was honestly about to give up and beg the manager to give him the evening shift instead, but that was when you walked into the shop. Wearing the same beige shirt with the coffee shop's logo printed onto the pocket. You greeted the manager with a bright smile, asking him how he was. You disappeared into the locker room beside the kitchen and came back with a brown apron in hand.

“Oh, hi?” You said as you approached Seungmin, a puzzled expression forming on your face. He mirrored the same, because who were you? And why did his heart stutter as you drew closer to him?

“Y/n, he's Seungmin. He's not new, don't worry. He used to be on the evening shift.” The manager told you and went into the kitchen, presumably to speak with the guy in there about how they ran out of croissants.

You looked relieved when the man told you Seungmin wasn't new. “Ah, sorry. I've had exams the whole week. I didn't know you were dealing with this alone.” You chuckled. “I apologize.”

Seungmin, for the first time in his life, found himself starstruck. Utterly starstruck by the person in front of him. His words betrayed him, so he simply nodded and turned away to clean the expresso machine before he could embarrass himself more.

He was dumbfounded. Because when had he ever been at a loss of words like that? The answer was never. He was witty and always had a snark reply waiting on the tip of his tongue when his friends made a joke.

It was just the two of you, working in silence. The other guy (was it Jeno?) had gone out to run an errand. There weren't that many customers, just the occasional one whom you greeted like they were old friends. You easily struck up a conversation with the person in front of you. It was like Seungmin was witnessing witchcraft. Not only were you able to keep a smile on the customer's face but you were making whatever they needed in the blink of an eye and handed it to them, telling them to come by again soon. He made awkward eye contact with you every now and then, but he still hadn't managed to say a word.

The next day, you were there before him, looking far too optimistic for someone to be at seven in the morning. For some reason, that didn't irk Seungmin as much as other people did. He wasn't against positivity and happiness, but he expressed those emotions in different ways. Ways other people didn't like. While they spread happiness in smiles and good vibes, engulfing their close ones in lingering hugs, he would add an extra pump of chocolate in their drink and made sure the latte art looked extra nice. You belonged to the former category. He could tell as the usual bustle of people walked in. You handled them all with such ease, he had to mentally slap himself to get back to his work and stop staring at you.

The two of you just clicked, working in harmony seamlessly without uttering a single word, despite never formally introducing yourselves to each other. The mornings started to become a thing Seungmin looked forward to. The six hour shift seemed too less. Every day he woke up, a skip in his step because of the fact that he could see you. Not that he like liked you or anything. His feelings were a whirlwind or chaos ever since you stepped foot into his life. His usually self poofed away, leaving behind a shy boy who could barely look you in the eye.

Although he was slightly jealous of your outgoing personality, he found it endearing the longer he worked with you. You remembered every little detail about everyone — from a man's promotion to a school kid's test grades. And you weren't doing it on purpose. You genuinely liked knowing about people and tried to change their day for the better. He heard you tell Jeno that you would like to be the reason someone smiled at least once that day.

Seungmin didn't speak with you directly, but your attitude was bringing a change in him too. His friends were the first to notice the change in him when they dropped by the coffee shop one day. Seungmin happened to be serving another customer and he looked happy instead of his regular blank expression. It was a nice change. When asked about it, he simply glanced in your direction, that infectious smile plastered all over your face as you placed fresh brownies in the showcase. You found joy in the most miniscule things, it was bewildering to him but he found it rather cute.

Hyunjin noticed his friend's gaze on you and for once, he didn't interrupt or tease him. A soft smile on his face, he brought the cup of coffee to his lips, watching the way Seungmin was looking at you. He wasn't a fool to see that his friend had much more than platonic colleague feeling towards you, whether he understood it himself or not.

The morning shift was starting to be somewhat productive. Once the majority of the people left as soon as the clock struck eight thirty, the place was empty except for the occasional one or two people. He had time to do whatever he wanted. Sometimes he cleaned down the tables and restocked the showcases. Other times, he would study. His daily vocal lessons were taking a toll on him. Not that he would ever quit. But he did have his moments of stress.

A ceramic mug was placed in front of him with whipped cream and caramel syrup piled on top of it. He turned away from the papers for his vocal lessons he'd been hunched over and looked at you. There was no customer in the shop, so you definitely weren't mistaken when you placed it in front of him. Besides, he was sitting behind the counter next to the cash register.

“Caramel Macchiato. Think of it as an apology —” Apology? — “if I managed to upset you in some way, I know I can be a bit too much —”

“I'm not mad at you?” That came out as a question. Not the tone Seungmin was hoping for, but he decided to go with the flow. “What made you think that?” Another dumb question. He'd been borderline ignoring you for the past week. Obviously you'd think you'd done something to upset him which in fact the complete opposite. “Nevermind, I can see why you'd think that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, turning around in the bar stool so he was facing you properly. “I'm sorry. I — uh, I'm Seungmin.”

“Y/n.” Your mood brightened up once he said that he wasn't mad at you. “You can keep the latte though. That one is my specialty.” You smiled, your eyes drifting from his face to the mug, eagerly waiting for him to try some. Which he did. It was… perfect. Not too sweet and the caramel didn't come on too strong. He used his thumb to wipe off the excess whipped cream over his mouth, a satisfactory nod following which made you beam. “Is it good?”

“Very.” Your bright smile was making him crack a small grin as well.

“You should start smiling more.” You pointed out, wiping your hands on the towel tucked in your apron pocket. “It suits you.”

The days that followed were filled with conversations between the two of you, although you were the one doing most of the talking. He didn't mind. He found a strange sense of happiness in seeing you ramble on and on about your cat or about the good grade you got on the test you were stressing about. He found himself wanting to know more and more about you. To see you more than the stupid six hour shift.

The insecure part of his mind told him that the smiles you gave him were the same as the ones you gave everyone else. It was just your nature. Being a living, breathing Pinkie Pie — making a change in an another person's day your life's sole mission. You were only talking to him because Jeno usually helped in the kitchen. Seungmin was just… the same as everybody else.

He didn't want to be everybody else.

You should smile more. It suits you.

Your words rang in his head day and night. Were you being nice or did you genuinely mean that? But you always meant whatever you said. You weren't afraid to hide your true thoughts, although you often sugar-coated your words so you wouldn't hurt anyone's feelings.

There was a new thought arising inside him that he tried to play off. Seungmin turned to his right, watching you make someone's drink. The morning rays of sun made your skin look golden, highlighting the pink tint of the lip gloss you applied that morning.

How could someone be so effortlessly breathtaking when making a cappuccino?

He wasn't foreign to the feeling of love, but you were something else entirely. You gave him a smile whenever you met his eyes, an action that made his cheeks turn pink as he looked away.

“Something on your mind?” You asked as you took a donut out of the showcase.

“No…” He shook his head. “Why do you ask?”

“You've been piling a little too much whipped cream onto that latte.” His eyes widened when he looked at the cup in front of him, a mountain of whipped cream sitting on top. His ears turned red when you chuckled. All the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop canceled out and it was only the sound of your laughter and the thumping of his heart in his chest that rang in his ears. He liked it. He liked hearing you laugh. He liked being the reason of your happiness.

He liked you.

That was a strong revelation. Normally, he'd let those thoughts mull over in his head for a while, but not this time. An idea formed in his head and he began to put his plan into action. He grabbed a cup and started making a latte.

“I do have something on my mind.” He said a while later, when you were sitting idly on your phone.

“What is it?” You asked, putting your phone down to give him your full attention. Your curious face made him hesitate for a moment. He took off the baseball cap he was wearing and ran his finger through his brown hair before focusing on you again.

“You.”

“Me?”

He swallowed. Seungmin picked up the drink he'd been trying to perfect and put it in front of you. He was scared. Your once beaming expression and turned into furrowed brows and an emotion he couldn't gage.

“Caramel Macchiato?”

“Jeno helped.”

A wide, toothy grin broke onto your face. “And here I thought I annoyed you.”

“The only thing that's annoying me is that you aren't trying my coffee.” He tried to act annoyed, but he wasn't able to play down the joy he was feeling.

You laughed, taking a big gulp from the ceramic mug. “Not bad.” You gave an appreciative nod. “I could teach you though.”

“Oh yeah?” Seungmin stepped closer.

“Yeah. Consider it a date.”

“It's a date now?” It was a rhetorical question, he knew that. A bubbling feeling arose in him when you stood up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. He could smell the caramel on you as you lingered close to him for a second before pulling back. He couldn't hold back the happy grin this time, letting it take over as he looked into your eyes. “I want to take you out on a proper date.” His hands found yours, holding them with utmost care, thumbs brushing over your knuckles.

“Well I would hope so. I do have better clothes than this uniform.” He chuckled. “And I want to see more of that smile.” You were definitely something different.

#skz #stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz scenarios #kim seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin #seungmin fluff #kim seungmin x reader #( 🎤 ⸻ my works / kim seungmin )#( 🎤 ⸻ events / valentines collab )

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girlgenius1111 · 3 months

Text

crumbling under pressure

part 4 of adrenaline junkie

barça x reader

r continues to struggle in Alexia's absence. Alexia worries over how she's going to get r to realize she needs, and deserves, help.

-----

You don't sleep a wink that night. Even though Lucy sleeps downstairs on the couch, and even though you sneak into Alexia's empty bed halfway through the night, you can't get yourself to fall asleep. Every time you get close, your body jerks back awake, terrified of what horrors await it once your eyes shut. You don't feel safe enough to fall asleep, and there isn't much you can do about that. You aren't really even that upset, because Alexia would be back the next day, and really, was having another nightmare while she was gone something you really wanted to deal with?

You weren't stupid, and you knew that this wasn't sustainable. Something would have to change, likely once Alexia returned home, and although you were pretty sure it would be something you didn't want, like therapy or sleeping pills, the relief that someone would just fix it for you was hard to ignore.

And then, the next day, Lucy looked at you, when you came down the stairs, slowly, as your ribs were extra sore from yesterdays incident, with a strange expression on her face. Lucy only looked like that when something was wrong. She'd looked at you like that when she'd needed knee surgery last year, when Keira had gone down at the world cup. It was the look you saw on her face in the hospital when you woke.

It made your heart fall out of your chest, that look. You hated it, and you hated whatever Lucy was about to say.

"What?" You asked, voice already shaking.

"It's not that big of a deal," Lucy prefaced. It didn't make you feel much better. "There's some snow storm in Sweden, so the team can't get back until tomorrow."

Lucy assumed you would relax. It wasn't that big of a deal, really. No one was hurt, or dead. She hadn't considered just how much you'd been relying on Alexia the past few days, though, not until you visibly crumpled at her words. It made sense; Alexia was providing you stability in a time where your whole life felt like it had turned upside down. Stability was never something you'd had much of in your life, and Lucy hadn't realized how much you'd needed it until this moment. Being injured was never easy, but pair that with a near death experience? It was a miracle you'd let Alexia leave the country in the first place.

"Oh. Okay. That's cool." You said lamely, although your body language told an entirely different story.

"Alexia says she's really sorry, and that you can call her whenever you want. And I'll stay, of course."

"No, Luce, you have to go home." You frowned, shaking your head.

"No, I don't." Lucy said stubbornly.

"Have you forgotten the existence of Narla and Coco?"

"They're both away for training. They've been having some... behavioral issues."

"What did Narla do?" You smirk.

"Nothing! The fight wasn't her fault. Coco is always getting her all riled up. And don't change the subject! I'm staying here until Alexia gets back, whether you like it or not."

"I don't like it. I'm fine."

"If you say that one more time, I'm going to poke you in the rib really hard, and see how fine you are then!" Lucy said, stepping menacingly towards you.

Your eyes widened and you threw your good arm up in the air in surrender. "Damn, Lucy. When did you get so strict?"

"Stop deflecting! You're upset, and I'm staying. That's final."

"You sound like Leah," you mumble, but turn and retreat back to your room without further argument. What was another night with no sleep?

-----

Stupid Sweden. Stupid snow. You're going on 48 hours with no sleep, and it's clearly catching up with you. Alexia should be back from the airport in the next few minutes, finally. You feel like you're going crazy, like your brain isn't functioning correctly.

The dogs had returned from their little vacation, and you'd convinced Lucy to go home, even though she'd wanted to wait until Alexia got back. You weren't eager for them to talk, and for Lucy to tell Alexia just how poorly you'd been doing, so you were glad when Lucy begrudgingly left a few hours before your captain was due back.

What you didn't know, though, was that Lucy had clued Alexia in to the problem at hand earlier when she'd insisted you take a walk around the block and get some fresh air.

-----

"Hola Capi," Lucy said, hearing her teammates chattering in the background. They were at the airport, waiting to board their plane.

"Hi Lucia. How is she?" Alexia asked. She'd been feeling horrifically guilty that she'd had to be gone another night, as had the rest of the team. They'd all wanted to check up on you, having barely seen you since the accident. You didn't not want to see them, per say , it just seemed overwhelming, and Alexia had been limiting your visitors.

"She's... okay." Lucy said, not really sure that she wanted to worry the midfielder when she was already going to be home as soon as she could.

"That was not reassuring, Lucia. What have you done to my kid?" Alexia said, elbowing Mapi next to her when the defender laughed at the way Alexia was referring to you.

"I haven't done anything!" Lucy said indignantly. Alexia was silent, and Lucy could picture the look on her face, brows furrowed slightly, waiting for Lucy to just get out with it. "I don't think she slept last night. Or the night before." She admitted.

"At all?" Alexia frowned. This was completely unlike you; you loved to sleep. A lot. So much that it was almost an issue. She knew you'd been having nightmares, but she didn't think they'd impede your ability to sleep completely.

"I don't think so. I checked on her, and she acted like she was asleep, but she's practically catatonic today, and she looks exhausted. I don't think she's going to sleep until you're back, honestly."

"Fuck. Okay. Thank you for staying with her, Luce, I appreciate it."

"Anytime. She was England's kid first." Lucy reminded her, prompting a laugh from the Spaniard.

"Well, you can have the most stubborn girl in the world back anytime."

"I don't think she'll be interested, she's pretty attached to you." Alexia felt a wave of guilt wash over her at her teammates words. She shouldn't have left you. Your whole life, no one had bothered to stick around long enough to make sure you were okay, and she'd basically done that to you. She hung up with Lucy, spending the rest of the trip back silently worrying about you.

-----

You were trying to fold laundry when Alexia arrived home, sat on the couch, doing your best to keep things neat with one arm in a sling. The door banged open, in the way it always did when Alexia arrived home with a suitcase. You watched her walk in, eyes immediately scanning the room for you. You rose, tossing aside the t-shirt of hers you'd been [trying] to fold.

"Pequeña," she said, dropping her bag to pull you into a gentle hug.

"Hi Ale," you said, words muffled against her sweatshirt. She pulled back after a moment, tilting your chin up to look at your face.

"You look awful."

"Thank you. I'm so glad you're home, you always know just what to say." You said sarcastically.

Alexia rolled her eyes. "Seriously, you look like you haven't slept since I've been gone." She accused, doing her best not to sound upset; worry had the tendency to do that to her, making her sound frustrated when really, she was only concerned.

You shrugged, pulling away to allow her to walk fully into the house.

"Lucy told me you didn't sleep, so don't even try to pretend. And why are you folding laundry? You're supposed to be resting." Alexia scolded, and your face grew tense.

"I slept fine," you snapped, pissed at Lucy for telling, at Alexia for leaving, and at yourself, for being so pathetic that you couldn't sleep without Alexia there to make you feel safe. "Sorry I folded, I was just trying to be helpful. I'll stop doing that from now on, and just lay, motionless, for the rest of my fucking life."

Your voice had raised into a shout, and Alexia froze, blinking at you in surprise. Not really at your anger, because you were... rather known for your outbursts; it was expected, you were still growing. No, she was surprised at the pure hatred in your voice, seemingly directed towards yourself.

"Go upstairs, go lay down. I'll be there after I shower." Alexia said gently, not acknowledging the shouting at all. This only seemed to make you more upset.

"I'm fine. I don't need to lay down," you scowled, the words hurled viciously at the woman in front of you.

"Go lay down." Alexia repeated, still pretending that you weren't shouting at her. With a loud huff, you stormed off towards the stairs, taking the time to shove over a pile of clothes you'd folded. You stomped up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door impressively loudly behind you.

You were exhausted, she could tell. And, very obviously, having a hard time. A harder time than even she had thought, and certainly one harder than you'd ever admit. You needed help, the thought was only reinforced in her head.

She pulled out her phone, texting Mapi quickly, asking her for the name of the psychologist she saw. Mapi loved the woman, and had off handedly suggested that Alexia get you an appointment with her. The blonde appreciated the gesture, knowing that Mapi would divulge such personal information only to help you, really.

Alexia decided to let you cool down, bringing her bag to her room and getting ready to shower. She saw the sheets on the bed crumpled, in a way she hadn't left them, and realized you must have tried to sleep here at some point. Her heart felt like it was cracking in two at the realization.

-----

You'd calmed down significantly since storming out of the room, now sitting on your bed, watching a movie on the TV on the dresser. Your concussion was much improved, and you were allowed more screen time now, so you weren't completely bored.

You were so tired, deep in the core of your being, just completely and entirely exhausted, but your eyes wouldn't shut, even with Alexia back in the house. You were beginning to think you might never sleep again when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Can I come in?" Alexia called from the hallway.

"Yeah."

She opened the door, and entered the room. You kept your eyes on the screen, feeling more than a little embarrassed about your outburst before. You were supposed to be an adult.

Alexia was undeterred, though, sliding onto the bed next to you. You were only under a throw blanket, and she tugged on the side of it, until you lifted the edge allowing her to scoot under. You both leaned back up against the cushy headboard, watching an episode of Love Island in silence.

"Sorry for yelling." You said finally, eyes still trained on the screen, even as you felt Alexia turn to look down at you.

"It's alright, pequeña. I'm more worried about you not sleeping."

You don't deny it this time. Alexia takes the remote from where you'd discarded it on the bed, turning the TV off. Only then do you bring your eyes up to meet hers.

"What's going on?" Alexia prompted you.

"I don't know. I had that nightmare, and I called you. And I tried to sleep after that, but I couldn't, my body wouldn't let me fall asleep."

Alexia studied you, and you knew what she was looking at; bloodshot eyes, dark bags under your eyes, slightly groggy expression on your face.

"How can I get you to sleep?" She asks finally.

You look away from her, and she knows you have an answer, but you're too embarrassed to say it. She nudges you with her leg, poking your shin with her foot until you look at her, slightly annoyed.

"Can you stay?" You ask her, eyes fixed on your hands fidgeting with each other.

"Of course I can." Alexia says, relieved that you've finally stated what will help. You don't detect any annoyance or hesitancy in her face so you scoot closer, until the side of you is pressed up against her, and only then do feel your eyes finally sliding shut.

You fall asleep insanely quickly, breathing evening out before Alexia had time to grab her phone and look at the text she got back from Mapi. It contained a name, and an offer, one that Alexia felt she was likely to take.

-----

Mapi hadn't wanted to start therapy, not at all. But, like most positive changes that had occurred in her life, Ingrid had talked her into it. Now, she wasn't sure she would have made it through the past year without it. Alexia had, much to her mother's annoyance, never really considered therapy as an option. It wasn't the healthiest choice, but it was a choice she'd made. And this was precisely why she figured Mapi would be better to talk to you about going than she was.

It was clear you needed it, desperately. Though you'd slept for almost 14 hours uninterrupted the day she'd arrived home from Sweden, you weren't really doing any better.

You knew Alexia was up to something when she announced she was going to get coffee, and didn't try to force you to come. Your suspicion was only reinforced when she casually mentioned that Mapi might stop by while she was gone. You had no choice but to sit, and wait for whatever ghastly intervention was headed your way.

You were surprised, though, when you opened the door to both Mapi and Ingrid standing on the front porch. You hadn't been expecting the Norwegian, and it wasn't that you were upset, it was just... not what you expected. She held out the iced coffee in her hands as a peace offering, though, which you accepted gratefully, gesturing them inside.

"So, where's your prison guard?" Mapi joked. Alexia had been weird about you leaving the house since the accident; you're sure it's mostly because she wants your rather battered body to recover, and only partly because she can keep a close eye on you when you're at home.

"Oh, give it up, Mapi. I know whatever is happening here was planned by both of you. And possibly you." You say, nodding towards Ingrid. Mapi had the decency to look slightly guilty, but Ingrid's face was unreadable, as usual.

They took seats in the matching armchairs, while you sat on the couch, looking at them expectantly.

"Ale is really worried about you," Mapi started.

"No, really?!" You gasped sarcastically. Mapi didn't look like she appreciated it, but you thought you saw the hint of a smile on Ingrid's lips.

"You don't seem to be doing too well, pequeña. And that's completely understandable. It would make sense if you needed some help."

"I'm fine. I just need everything to heal, and once I get back in training and back on the pitch, I'll be good." Though the change in your routine wasn't really making you feel great, your problems went much deeper than that, and your older teammates knew it.

"You and I both know that isn't the problem, elskling." Ingrid said seriously.

"What do you think the problem is then, Ingrid. Please, tell me, because I have no idea what everyone thinks-"

"Stop lashing out at everyone that is trying to help you," Ingrid interrupted. "The problem is that you can't sleep without Alexia here, you're have horrible nightmares, Alexia said you've been avoiding going in the car at all costs, and you told Leah you never want to ride a bike again, which is so unlike you, y/n. You're too stubborn to stop doing something because the people around you think it's too dangerous. You're terrified, all the time, and you don't have to be. You deserve help, you deserve to move on from this, instead of pushing everything and everyone away when. Forcing yourself not to feel it isn't going to help. It's just going to make things worse when it all catches up to you, which it will."

No one had dared to speak to you so bluntly since the accident, afraid you would crumble under the slightest amount of pressure. And for a minute, Ingrid was worried you would. She and Mapi watched as several different emotions played across your face. Anger was there, first, but it was fleeting. You looked defensive, then, opening up your mouth to presumably tell Ingrid she was wrong. Nothing came out though, and suddenly you just looked... sad. Defeated.

You slouched back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling, struggling to put into words what you were feeling. You looked so upset, both of them would have done anything to fix it, to take away the sling, and the bandages encasing your arm. The way you held your upper body so carefully, always conscious of your ribs. The way you could only wear shorts, leaving the large scrape on the side of your leg exposed for everyone to see, which they knew you hated. All of it, any of it, they just wanted to help, wanted you to let them help.

"I don't know what to do," you said finally, voice breaking on the last word. "I'm so scared. All the time. I've never felt like this before, and I just want it to stop, I don't understand why it won't stop."

"You don't have to try to fix it yourself, pequeña," Mapi said softly. Your head snapped up to look at her, a desperate look on your face.

"I do. I can't ask any more of Alexia, of you guys, of anyone. It's all already too much. I have to fix this myself, I have to." You insisted.

"I think Alexia would sell her Ballon d'Or if it meant you would feel okay. There isn't a limit to how much we want to help you, pequeña. You don't need to hide your feelings away because you don't want to be too much. There's no such thing as too much, not for us. Not when it's you. You're worth it all, kid."

"Why?" You asked, so quietly both girls almost missed it.

"Why? Why what?" Mapi repeated, confused.

"Why do you guys care so much?" You looked between her and Ingrid, wanting to cry at the way they looked at you, as if they were baffled that you didn't know why, that you didn't understand. You didn't though, and you were worried you might not ever get it, might never think you were worth all this.

Mapi looked to Ingrid, not sure herself what to say, but imagining that Ingrid could probably come up with something better.

"Because it's you. We care about you, we love you. You're an incredible footballer, but you aren't cocky. You know how to make everyone laugh, but you also always know when someone has a bad day, and needs something different. You're protective over your teammates, even though you're younger and shorter than most of them. You give good hugs, and you make the best chocolate chip cookies. You round out the team so perfectly."

Ingrid paused, watching to see if what she's saying is really getting through. She thinks it is, because suddenly, you're looking everywhere but at her, chewing hard on your bottom lip.

"You're a good person. Of course we care about you. How could we not?" Ingrid finishes. If her goal was to make you cry, it was working. You hid your face in your one good hand, shoulders shaking lightly. You hadn't really realized how much attention everyone paid to you. How much your presence on the team was noticed. You were so used to being invisible, no matter what you did, pushed to the side, that you often forgot; that didn't happen here. Your teammates had never, and would never, treat you like that.

Ingrid and Mapi moved forward on instinct, sitting on either side of you, and squishing you in between them. The front door opened just as they did so, and they looked up at each other, over your trembling body, exchanging a look of slight terror. Alexia was home, you were crying, and she was probably going to kill them. Once she made sure you were okay, of course.

"What did you DO?" The blonde hissed, putting her coffee down in the entryway, not even bothering to take her shoes off as she rushed forward, flicking Mapi and Ingrid each on the side of the head, before crouching down in front of you.

"Pequeña?" She asked gently, in the tone that she reserved only for you. You didn't respond, only shaking your head slightly. "You broke her," Alexia accused, glaring at the girls on either side of you.

"We did not!" Mapi yelped. "We're fixing her, this is part of the process." Now it was Ingrid's turn to flick Mapi, looking quite exasperated with her girlfriend. You mumbled something, but it was too muffled for anyone to understand.

"Say that again?" Ingrid asked, her hand resting comfortingly on your back.

"I don't know what to do, can you tell me what to do?" You finally emerged from where you'd hidden behind your hand, eyes red and swollen. "I don't want to feel like this anymore."

Alexia was somewhat lost, but Ingrid and Mapi were pretty sure that you were asking for help, finally asking for help. You didn't want to be scared anymore, and you were ready to let them try to help you fix it.

"Here's what you're going to do," Mapi said, suddenly serious and determined. "You're going to go to therapy. And it might be hard at first, but it's going to help, I promise. You're going to do your injury rehab program with the club, and get back on the pitch. You're going to drive again, and not be scared. And you're going to get another damn motorcycle, if thats what you want, because they're really cool, and the accident had nothing to do with you being on there."

Alexia had started off agreeing with Mapi, and quickly found herself frantically shaking her head at the other girl.

"Yes, Ale, she's going to get another motorcycle if she wants. She's an adult. It's time you treated her like one. If she's going to be able to trust herself, and feel safe again, she has to feel like you trust her to. Do you?" Mapi was never this stern, never this assertive. What she was saying made sense though, and all eyes were on Alexia now.

"Of course I trust you. I've never not trusted you, nena. I worry, yes, but I trust you." She held your gaze, and you nodded after a minute.

"Therapy. Rehab with the club. Get back on the pitch. Drive. Motorcycle?" You asked, greatly simplifying the process.

Alexia took a deep breath. "Yes, if you want. If you give therapy your best shot, then I won't throw a tantrum over the motorcycle."

"It's very mature of you to realize it's a tantrum, Ale." You said, cracking the first smile they'd seen from you in a while.

"If y/n can get another motorcycle-" Mapi began hopefully.

"No. I'll break up with you." Ingrid cut in, and her girlfriend scowled.

"You'll let me ride your new one, won't you?" She asked, nudging your knee with hers.

"I don't know if I can get on one. Ever again. I don't think that's something therapy will be able to fix." You replied, and the mood of the room turned serious once again.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? You're only going to do what you're comfortable with." Alexia said reassuringly, very obviously relieved.

"You think it will help? Therapy?" You asked, turning to Mapi.

"I do. I really do." She promised.

"Fine. I'll try." You said finally.

The girls were all smiles, and the conversation turned to easier, more fun things after that. It was easy with them, comfortable to fall back into jokes and laughter, even after such a heavy conversation. It was what you imagined it must be like for people to be able to depend on their families. Going to them with anything, no matter what the problem was, easily slipping back and forth between light and fun, and heavy and serious. You wondered briefly when you'd started to think of your team as your family.

The when didn't really matter very much, you decided. You had a family, had a support system. If they were there, you were sure you could figure everything out. Even if it was hard. It didn't seem like they were going anywhere.

-----

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader

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