#and i have learned absolutely nothing from when i was nine because i am STILL tying my hyperfixations to these songs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morporkian-cryptid · 2 months

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Something I really like with The Mountain Goats is that a lot of songs are at first very cryptic, or seem a bit boring because they’re very descriptive and factual; until somewhere around the end, one line suddenly puts everything else into perspective, and the meaning of the song punches you in the gut.

Take “Picture of my dress" for example. The whole song follows a woman’s road trip, in a very mundane and descriptive way: a truck stop parking lot, smoking a cigarette with a stranger, a greasy sandwich in a diner, listening to the radio. And taking a picture of her dress. Why is she taking a picture of her dress? We don’t know, we can only follow her on this road trip, watching in from the outside and getting no context.

Right up until “I only wore it once, nine years ago”.

There’s only one kind of dress you would only wear once and then keep for a long time. A wedding dress.

And suddenly everything else makes so much more sense. She just got divorced. She’s running away from her old life, from the memories; or she’s looking for something. Trying to put into perspective the decision she made nine years ago; trying to find what the old her saw in that dress, in that marriage; or trying to find something she had back then and has lost since. The road trip is the path to healing, with ups and downs and mundane days and painful reminiscing and trying to see the good in the past too.

The last verse of the song gives more explanation about her goal, but you still wouldn’t really understand it without the “it’s a wedding dress” line. I’m gonna quote the end of the song; I have nothing to add about it, but I find it absolutely gorgeous and it lives rent-free in my head.

But I say some prayers above the engine I bless everything there is to bless Run out of gas in the middle of nowhere anyway Stand by the roadside smiling

This is something I noticed more recently when listening to older songs, specifically “No I can’t” from Bitter Melon Farm. It’s a very formulaic, repetitive song: You brought me this, and that, and this, thank you for this, and that, and this, now I have everything I need. Repeat and fill in the blanks with increasingly expensive objects.

At first I thought that “Now I have everything I need” was sarcastic. Like “oh wow thank you for this gift you are so thoughtful I don’t know how I could have lived my whole life without it – oh wait I did and it was completely fine”, like, who are you to know what I need. What am I gonna do with all this useless stuff.

Until “Thank you for the coat I forgot to mention; I’ve been freezing in here, I’ve been freezing in here”.

It’s not so much the words themselves rather than the way they are sung, with both despair and realization. I don’t know if this is what the song really means, but this is what I understand from the way this line reframes the rest. This is someone who is learning to live again. Someone who doesn’t know how to take care of themselves and has been surviving on the bare minimum for so long they never realized they might need or even want more. Someone who loves them is bringing them gifts – first just polite ones: candies and flowers; then useful ones: a sofa, a lamp, a filing cabinet; then entertaining ones: a puppy, books, a radio. Each time the narrator thanks them as if following a script, not really knowing what to say, and concludes that they nowhave everything they need. And every time the other person gives them something else, and now the narrator has everything they need, because they realize they were missing this thing they just received. This other person is trying to fill the narrator’s life with things that will make their life easier, more enjoyable. The small joys and the small helps that make life more than just surviving.

The last gift is a friendly presence, and a realization. The friend comes to visit, and lets the wind in, and reminds the narrator of the cold – they don’t have to stand there in this cold apartment, freezing, they can put a coat on. And that’s when the narrator realizes they were freezing. They hadn’t noticed before, because they don’t pay attention to their needs, they just make do with what they have without even considering that things could be better. This realization is the first step in healing. And the friend doesn’t push or tell them explicitly what they need. The friend just gives them things to help them, asking nothing in return and letting them slowly realize for themself that yes, this is useful, this is helpful, this is comforting, I needed this. I may need more. I can have more. My life can be better. Even small things help.

And I find it absolutely amazing how TMG can pack so much into such a simple and seemingly nonsensical song.

#the mountain goats #music

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apprenticestanheight · 5 months

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THE FIVE DAYS OF SMUTMAS QUEUE: DAY THREE

Somno - Peter Strahm x gn! reader

Allllllll right, we are on to day three of this event and despite the fact that I never really write this many fics in less than a week unless motivation has come around and hyped me to a point where I'm capable of doing it across two days, I am still chuggin on and to be honest, the concept for this fic is largely what's kept me from going down the demotivated slope.

I have had a very not great last two months of the year and so body worship with peter strahm and a touch of angst with hurt/comfort it is, because I needed to write this idea out and figured this event would be a good opportunity lol.

Last note before this fic begins, this fic is meant for audiences of 18+! Minors, do not interact.

Fic type- this is smut and hurt/comfort

Warnings- somnophilia, oral (afab recieving), there is one mention of trauma/anxiety induced insomnia, and the reader is gn for all intents and purposes, but I went with an AFAB reader as that's the anatomy I know best, and this is edited but barely bc I wanted to post oops.

Peter is all too aware of how rough the last few months have been for you.

Granted, you've not said a word of it because you'd sooner see hell than let anyone know when you're going through a rough spot, but since your relationship has begun, Peter has learned to look for the subtle tells you display whenever you feel like your life is about to start falling apart.

Peter is something of a chronic insomniac because of how the on-call schedule of his work with the Jigsaw case has impacted his sleeping capabilities, and so he's used to staying awake for hours on end in case he gets a phone call from someone at the Jersey precinct.

You, however, work a decent and consistent job as a cleaner that pays more than well. You have a set of routines—you wake up at six thirty every morning, make a steaming mug of chai from the K-Cups you adore, eat an easy breakfast and a cliff bar on your way out of the house.

You're at work from seven-thirty in the morning to six thirty most nights, come home and do whatever needs doing around the apartment that you and Peter share, and you watch TV or read until Peter comes home and the two of you order dinner.

You always go to bed sooner than Peter does, typically going to bed somewhere around eleven or midnight where the earliest Peter goes to sleep is one, and then you wake up the next morning and your cycle repeats.

However, since September, whenever Peter has come to bed, you've still been awake, even if it's three or four in the morning. The chai you made with the K-Cups you adore has turned into a steaming cup of coffee that you have to sweeten with brown sugar, honey, and sometimes maple syrup to be able to tolerate.

You're at work from seven am to nine or ten most nights now, and by the time you're home, the housework has been looked after because Peters hired a cleaning lady to come by the house and make sure the house stays clean once every four or five days.

You come home and Peter tries to get you to smile but nothing really does the trick. Peter finds that he misses you, wants to try to goad you into talking it out with him but knows from too many attempts to do so that it absolutely will not work.

But, when he comes home on the 22nd at 7:30, a rarely early time for him get home as the stuff with Jigsaw has progressed, he's completely and utterly shocked to see you sitting on the couch in your living room.

When he closes the door, your gaze snaps to his.

"I owe you an apology," you say. "I've been very terrible at being a spouse the past few months. I shouldn't've subjected you to that. I know I need to be better at communicating and I just feel awful because I've pretty much shut you out and I just—it's just not—it's not fair to you, Peter."

"It's all right, Y/N," he says. "I thought that something had happened, yeah? I figured you wanted space and I was going to give it to you until you decided you wanted closeness again. I know I get angry really quick and am frankly a little surprised I haven't snapped about it but I have worked on not snapping a lot since we started dating."

You've been married something like a decade. It took a lot of storming for Peter to reach the level of evenness, the level of calm, where he stood.

"Yeah, but I've been terrible," you laugh. Peter approaches, sits next to you on your couch. "I've not—it's not been fair, Pete. I haven't talked, I've worked myself almost to the bone, I don't eat breakfast like I used to—all of my routines have been thrown off by this, and I can't imagine how yours have been."

He wishes he could say that he was fine, completely unaffected by it, but to say that would be to lie right to your face, which is something he promised never to do in his wedding vows. He worried about you all the time, desperately wanted to ask you if you were okay and try to goad you into talking to him even though that had never, ever worked in his favor.

Peter grins at you. "I'm just glad you're okay, Y/N," he says. "Had me worried for a stretch, if I'm honest."

"I'm sorry to have worried you," you say. "I've just—work has been driving me mental. I took more hours to get a bit of a Christmas bonus on top of the bonus I get tomorrow to try to ease the mental stuff I've been dealing with and yeah, the cushy paycheck is great but fuck if I don't hate dealing with people during the holiday season. I have been yelled at about how spotless houses need to be more times than I can count."

Peter laughs. "You're the one who decided to go into the cleaning business," he says. You laugh a bit yourself, press your forehead against his shoulder.

"I know," you mumble sadly, a laugh trailing through your words. "But when I started, I'd really hoped I would spend less time talking to people, more time deep cleaning carpets while I had decent music playing through a Walkman. I do get to listen to music but the people are becoming more and more of an issue lately."

Peter presses a kiss to the top of your head. "You're gonna take a bit of time off, mm? You definitely seem like you could use it."

"I booked it last night," you nod. "Tomorrow through til valentines day. I need the time to settle back into routines and I've been drinking coffee religiously—it's more than the one I drink here. I drink at least three cups a day just in the name of keeping myself upright and that needs to stop. I am beyond caffeine overdose. I can drink 600 miligrams a day and not feel a thing."

"That is definitely cause for concern," Peter laughs. "But I'm glad you're okay and that you're trying to get better. I've booked up until the New Year off so that I could catch up on sleep, too, but if we're both home, it means a lot of us time after Christmas. Still goin' up to New York?"

"My mother will put us to death if we don't," you laugh. Peter laughs.

For a solid few minutes, things really do feel like they'll be okay.

For what is probably the first time since before he was so much as a cop, Peter Strahm is asleep, you also asleep next to him in the bed that you share, at nine o'clock. He wakes up at six thirty from an unfortunately kinky dream and all he wants to do is part your legs and eat you out until he can't breathe.

Granted—you've spoken extensively about it before, and you've given him the okay to do it several times just as he has you, but still. The part of Peter that's turned on by the idea is equally matched by the part that kind of feels gross about it.

But then, approximately five minutes into unbearably loud thoughts about pulling down the sweatpants you'd stolen from him and parting your legs and devouring you, and five minutes away from just running to the bathroom and rubbing one out to the idea, he watches you press your face against the pillow and moan loud enough for him to hear it.

"Peter," you moan. "Fuck, feels so good."

Peters eyes nearly roll to the back of his head and he bites down on his tongue to keep himself from floating.

He tries to shake out his hands, tries to think of anything else while your quiet, desperate moans fill the air.

He thrums through the Jigsaw victims that've popped up in recent weeks, tries to think about something like the weather or the baseball scores or something to focus on anything but the fact that you're in the midst of a sex dream, one involving him, and the fact that you're moaning your way through it in a way that makes Peter want to lose his mind.

And then, you moan Peters name in a way that you know in your lucid moments drives him crazy, and Peter can't stop himself.

You've discussed it before, and Peters done it before, and every single time he's woken you up with his tongue rubbing wildly against your clit, you've moaned out and started rutting against his face and made a comment about how much you liked waking up to Peter bringing you to orgasm.

Peter is careful to remove the sweatpants you've taken from his drawer, lifting up the shirt you also stole and exposing some of your waist.

He licks a stripe through your folds, not at all surprised to find you're wet if the way that you're moaning from the dream is of any indication, and almost moans against your cunt right then and there.

He starts off slowly, licking stripes against your folds and drinking your wetness down his throat like it's water. Every single time you moan something within him flutters, and he knows it's been too long since he's taken his time with eating you out.

And then, as his tongue attaches to your clit, he feels one of your hands move to his hair.

"Best way to wake up ever," you whisper. "Oh, Peter. Thank you."

You sound half-asleep, but Peter moans against you and you tug on his hair encouragingly, so he keeps going.

He runs his tongue in circles over your clit, sliding a digit into your wet hole without a thought in the world, fighting a smirk when you moan and tug on his hair again.

He starts thrusting, sets a pace that has you writhing within minutes, and takes his fingers out in the last split second before you release, replacing his fingers with his tongue and lapping up your cum without thought, care, or merit. You thrust against his face in the aftershocks, moan as he gets up from his position.

He pulls you in for a kiss while you use one arm to amble through your nightstand for a condom, feeling Marks half-hard, clothed-but-only-by-flannel-pajama-pants length against your bare thigh.

You pull away only so that he can take his pants off, and you slide the condom on with care for how hard his cock is. He peppers your neck and jawline with kisses as he slowly thrusts into your sensitive folds, moaning as he bottoms out.

"I love you," he says to fill the silence while he waits for you to adjust.

"Thank you for dealing with me when I'm at my worst," you press a kiss to his cheekbone. "And for waking me up in the best way ever. Love it when you eat me out, Pete. You're so fucking good at it."

Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you squeeze his hips to tell him to start moving, and when he does, he sets a slow pace. Despite his fervency when it came to oral, he did intend to actually make it known that he did love you and wasn't always in it just to get you or himself to orgasm as quickly as possible.

His pace is slow indeed, but not slow enough that you're pretty much begging him to pick it up a little, and his thrusts are languid in a way that's perfect.

Both of you start moaning after a bit, and Peter, the guy who never moans and usually just likes hearing how you sound when you do, is moaning lewdly and loudly into the nape of your neck while you moan quietly near his ear.

"Peter," you moan. "Peter, fuck. You're so fucking good at this, yeah? You're treating me so well, baby. You're amazing."

Peter moans, clearly enjoying the praise, and you rut your hips against him.

"Fuck," he moans, picking up the pace just a little. "Fuck, Y/N. I love getting you so slick. You were dreaming about me, yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Yeah. We were fucking at the precinct, in one of the storage closets."

Peter moves a hand to rub your clit, loving the moan that it brings out of you.

Minutes pass by of the same, and your release triggers Peters. You moan each others names as you come, and while you go pee to make sure you don't end up with a UTI, Peter pulls the condom off and trashes it, gets a bath going for the two of you.

In the bath, you talk of plans for the day, which will consist entirely of going to the shops together, reading books and doing last-minute christmas shopping.

All in all, you're happy that Peter woke you up with oral and Peter is happy that you're feeling okay enough to want to be woken up that way again.

#peter strahm #peter strahm x reader #saw franchise

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invadernurse · 4 months

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Catching Flies (Revised) Ch. 21

Chapter 21: Birth of a Destroyer

Overall rating: Teen

Summary: You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. That’s what they say anyway.

Teacher!Reader makes the mistake of trying to help the two most troubled kids in your class. This leads to forming a science club, learning some childhood psychology, adopting an alien older than you, and somehow catching Professor Membrane’s interest.

Afab Non-binary Reader;

The reader does have a last name: Nemo– which means no-name.

Chapter One |Master post |Ao3

Boltzman was furious. How dare you humiliate him like that! In public! In front of Professor Membrane! You had woven your lies so tight and so through that you managed to convince the Professor that you were special somehow.

He would make you regret this; absolutely regret this.

Boltzman made his way to the Irken household. He may have never met Zim's parents, but hopefully they cared enough for their spawn that he could rile them against miss nemo.

What he wasn't expecting was two tall, lanky adults that looked nothing like Zim. "Welcome!" They greeted him in unison, though something about them made his skin crawl and his mind scream that something was not right. "How can we help you?"

"You're Mr and Mrs Irken?" he asked, wondering if he got the wrong address.

"We are," they answered with the same creepy smile. "How can we help you?"

"I… need to speak to you regarding Miss Nemo…"

"Mx." They snapped, their eyes narrowing as their smiles disappeared, sending more shivers down his spine.

"Right… so you know… them."

Their smiles returned as if they hadn't looked murderous five seconds before. "Of course! They have been most helpful with raising Zim."

Shit. You already managed to befriend them. Boltzmanm grinded his teeth, trying to think of how to proceed. There had to be something in your past you were hiding. Something he could uncover to show your true motives.

You were an English teacher, for crying out loud! You couldn't be that great of a mastermind!

"We're quite happy they returned to be a part of Zim's life,” the couple continued in perfect unison. “We're such better parents thanks to them…"

Wait. "Returned?"

***

When Monday came around, you were still floating on cloud nine. After all, a successful friend-date with the professor, seeing his face, and then he was on your side to hide Zim from child protective services…. Things couldn't go any better. And at the moment, you refused to let your logical side remind you that when things were going great, the universe seemed to hit you the hardest.

And while you knew that Boltzmann probably had it out for you, you didn't expect to see both him and Meyers waiting for you as soon as you entered, both looking extremely excited. Which did not bode well for you.

"Miss Nemo," Meyers greeted. "Finally, the mystery is revealed."

"Uh, what?" You asked, deciding it was too early in the morning to deal with the two. Yet it didn't seem as if they were going to give you any other choice.

"I wondered why you had taken such interest in those two troublemakers," Meyers stated. "At first I thought maybe it was just because you were a gold digger trying to catch Professor Membrane's eye…"

That certainly woke you up, kindling your annoyance into fury."What?!"

Your protest was ignored as Boltzman shoved a piece of paper in your face. It looked like a print out from a website that wasn't meant to be printed, but you froze as you read the contents. You didn't think before ripping the paper from his hands to read it closer, hoping your initial thoughts were wrong.

They weren't.

"This… this isn't real!" You shouted, clenching the paper in your hand. "What the hell are you two smoking to make something like this up?!"

"We haven't been making anything up!" Boltzmann argued back, that snide look still on his face. "You are the one trying to cover up the truth!"

"I am not! This is completely ridiculous! I-I am not Zim's biological mother!"

By now a crowd of other staff had gathered and you were aware of their whispers and gossiping. All the while Boltzmann and Meyer looked unconvinced.

"We have documents to prove it," Meyer stated firmly. "It took some digging, but you can't hide it anymore."

"Besides, his adoptive parents have already confirmed it," Boltzmann added smugly. "I talked with them myself."

Adoptive… your were reminded of Zim's robotic parents. And then when you had 'helped' update them….

And Zim had taken your name as his mother's while falsifying those records.

Oh god.

Your stomach twisted as the realization of the possibility. If his computer messed up and actually put you as his biological mother when forging his birth certificate….

Your thoughts must have played across your face, and paired with your silence took it as if you admitted you were right.

"I'm placing you on administrative leave until I can figure out how to discipline your omission," Meyer added with glee. "After everything, I am sure that the school board will want to review your case before you're allowed to influence any other poor children."

***

"What the hell?!" You seethed after Dib and Zim appeared as you were cleaning out your office. Your eyes burned from tears as you pointed to the laptop Professor Membrane had gifted you, showing the same papers that Boltzman and Meyer had confronted you with. "Why am I listed as your mother, Zim?! I never agreed to that!"

Dib bit back a laugh, looking between you and Zim, who's green complexion paled considerably. "Computer!" Zim screeched after a moment, his Pak's light flaring to life. "Explain! Now!"

"Well, it was too much work to create three whole new humans in their systems," the computer's voice sighed from the pak. "So I just used Mx. Nemo and a random male who died in the last few years. I figured that would be good enough."

Silence reigned before both you and Zim screamed with the same panicked and angry tone. "You did what?!"

"Fix it!" Zim snarled as you tried to calm yourself. "Fix it now!"

"How?" The computer shot back. "Obviously the humans are already aware, and do you know how bothersome that is?"

"I don't care!" Zim stomped his foot petulantly. "I want it fixed now!"

Yet as much as you wanted it fixed, for the whole situation to just disappear… you knew it wouldn't. Boltzmann and Meyer believed they knew the truth and trying to convince them of anything else was going to be impossible.

Hell, they'd probably make things worse if the birth certificate suddenly disappeared.

“The computer’s right. It’s too late now. We’re just going to have to deal with the fall out,” you sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Even if they fire me, I’m sure I can --”

“Fire you?! They dare threaten your life with FIRE?!”

“No, Zim--!” You and Dib exclaimed, trying to stop the alien from jumping to conclusions, but it was no use. The spider-legs unfolded from his pak and he darted out of your hole-in-the-wall office and down the hall towards the principal’s office. You and Dib raced after him, through the crowds of students who were oddly enough not that surprised by the sight.

However, when the lasers blasted the door of the principal's office open, there was significantly more panic in the halls.

"You dare to threaten Mx. Nemo?!" Zim snarled, landing on top of Meyer’s desk, the spider legs shifting to point at the pudgy man menacingly. “I will show you the might of the Irken Empire!”

Meyers looked like he was about to melt into a puddle in his chair, but Boltzmann, who happened to be in the office as well, wasn’t as intimidated. "Mr. Irken, if you do not settle down at this moment," Boltzmann snapped from beside the principal. "I will send you to proper detention. And failing that, expulsion."

“I WILL EXPULSE YOU FROM THIS PLANE OF EXISTENCE!” Zim roared back just as you and Dib reached the office. “This is unforgivable blasphemy!”

How was it he could be eloquent and yet misunderstand simple terms at the same time? You distantly wondered before wrapping your arms around the small alien and lifting him off the desk. “Zim, no.”

“Zim yes!” He snarled, twisting in your grip, reminding you oddly of a frenzied cat. “Let me destroy your enemies for you! They have bothered you enough! They need to be punished!”

“Zim, listen to me! Listen to your Tallest!” you tried, desperate to keep a hold on him. “Leave them alone!”

The boy suddenly went still in your arms, and you realized what you said, as well as the fact you knew what that simple term actually meant. The pinnacle of the Irk hierarchy. The Absolute Authority.

To say it shook you for a moment was understatement.

“Do you really want to let these insects live after all they’ve done?” Zim spoke, breaking your thoughts. “After they dare to threaten you with fire?”

For one moment, you looked at the two. Meyer was still obviously terrified, and Boltzmann was sneering at you with disdain. It would be easy to let the alien invader loose on the two. Your mind burned with the stolen memories of Zim destroying whole planets and wiping out entire civilizations. Put in the right mood, Zim could likely destroy the school--the whole city-- and would think nothing of it. He’d laugh triumphantly.

You wanted to blame those same memories for the small urge to allow it. To let Zim create chaos and burn everything in his wake. To exact revenge on your behalf. Yet you knew at least of it was the hurt you had buried deep beneath finally trying to escape now that it had an ounce of outside validation.

“I want you safe,” you admitted, and felt him tense in your arms--likely offended at the implication that he was weak or something. “They’re not worth it, Zim.”

Zim snarled, sharp teeth exposed. "Fine, I will spare their pathetic lives, but if they ever dare to insult my Tallest again, they will suffer. You think you have seen Zim's might? YOU HAVE SEEN NOTHING!!!"

***

No one had protested when Dib and Zim had decided to skip out of school when you left. At least, none of the other teachers did; you had weakly reprimanded both of them though it was obvious that your heart wasn’t it.

Dib had decided it would be better to give you space and had assumed Zim had listened when he advised the alien to do so, but also doubted when he noticed Zim watching you board the city bus with an odd expression on his face.

This was far out of Dib’s normal circle of paranormal, aliens, and middle school. How were they going to fix this? It sounded like Meyers already planned to fire you, and you were already resigned to that fate. What would happen then? Would you leave their lives?

He never… he never lost somebody before. Not like this. And he didn’t want to think how Zim would react.

He mulled over the thoughts as he put his backpack away and sat at the kitchen table out of habit, taking out his tablet to brainstorm. He had to figure something out. Nevermind the fact that he would miss you, or the fact that he had never seen his dad so involved in something that was not science. Keeping you in their lives would keep the earth safe. You had helped Zim change so much…

Not only would Dib lose you, he worried he would lose the friendship that had been forged between him and the alien.

"Dib? What are you doing home?” Speak of the devil, Professor Membrane emerged from his basement laboratory, brows twisted into a frown. “And why do you look like someone died?"

Dib rubbed his face with a whine. Of course today was the day his dad had decided to work from home. “I… I think the school is going to fire Mx. Nemo."

There was a moment of silence as the two stared at each other before Professor Membrane spoke deceptively calm. "They plan on doing what?”

“Fire Mx. Nemo?” he repeated, and watched with a little bit of fear as Professor Membrane’s expression changed. He was used to seeing his dad exasperated, annoyed, and disgruntled. But not angry. "On what grounds?" Professor Membrane continued coldly.

"Uh…" Dib scrambled. How was he going to explain this? "Well, I mean it's not actually official yet, though Mx. Nemo was placed on administrative leave…"

The glass beaker in Professor Membrane's hand shattered, though he didn’t seem to notice. "On what grounds?" He repeated.

For once, Dib felt a sliver of intimidation by his father. He had seen the serious side like this before, but usually towards his employees. “Well, it's complicated, but…they may think that Mx. Nemo is actually Zim's biological mother and they've been hiding the fact and also something about unfair and privileged treatment?"

***

You had two weeks until rent was due. And after that, you had thirty days to leave your apartment if they moved to evict you right away. You might get lucky and get an extension, but you didn’t want to count on it either.

You moved your thoughts over to your other expenses, and how to make your funds last until you got another job. After all, you knew there was no way Meyer was going to allow you back. You weren't sure you wanted to go back at this point; you loved your students and everything.

But putting up with Meyer and Boltzmann was starting to wear you down. Today had just been the last straw on the camel’s back.

Sudden, sharp pounding at the door broke through your thoughts. There was barely time to stand before Zim burst through the door, snarling as he glared at you.

Which was rich, considering he was the reason that you were in this predicament to begin with. If it was any other day, you would have faced him with calm patience. Today, your ire rose at the provocation and you had to literally bite your tongue to keep from lashing out. Especially considering that fixing the door was going to cut into your already tight budget. "What do you want, Zim?" You asked instead, barely keeping an even tone.

"For these foolish humans to admit who their true superiors are!" He answered as he paced. "They dare to exile you?! We should burn their puny school and make them pay for their idiocy!"

Tallest. Supreme Authority. "I'm not superior in any way, Zim! I am no one, and I have nothing now!” You shouted at both him and the thoughts in your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I'm jobless, soon to be homeless, and an absolute failure! I'll have to go find a job at Bloaty's or something, because no one is going to hire me as a teacher! Everything I worked for has been ripped from me. "

There was silence from the small alien as you collapsed back on your couch, hot tears stinging in your eyes. Your dream of helping people, nurturing the next generation, of finding kids that slipped through the cracks and mentoring them… Gone.

People had laughed at you. Had warned you that you wouldn't find it as easy as you hoped. You wanted so badly to prove them wrong, and instead proved them right.

But who would have thought aliens would be part of the reason you failed?

"Why are your eyes leaking?" Zim asked after a moment, sounding both disgusted and perplexed. "What are your eyes leaking? EH?! AND YOUR NOSE TOO?"

A hysterical choked laugh escaped despite everything as you wiped your eyes. "It's called crying, Zim. It's a human thing when we're feeling sad, amongst other strong emotions. Such as when one realizes how much of a failure we are."

"Then there is no reason for you to be doing such a disgusting thing!" He argued. "You shouldn't be sad, you should be full of the angry bees of fury! You should be screaming your rage to the galaxy!"

"Why? Because they caught me in our lie?” You shot back. “They found out you put me as your birth mother. They think--and have proof-- that I was showing blatant favoritism! Which, I guess I was, but not for the reason they think! But either way, they're going to use that against me and I don't have any way to argue. I failed. I've only been a teacher for less than a year and I already failed."

"Lies!" Zim snarled. "Their stupidity is trying to infect you! Out of all the pathetic, disgusting humans on this horrible planet, you have been the only one to show the least bit of intelligence! I've actually learned about your pathetic species because of your efforts. You… you are my new Tallest," he continued after a pause, tone shifting slightly. "And for them to accuse you of being inferior is unacceptable. For you to think you are inadequate is unacceptable! You are Zim's Almighty Tallest! Which means you're the best!"

You swore your heart melted at his declaration. Who would have thought one of the most troubled students would become so attached to you?

Or that he was a true alien.

And had forged documents that you had given birth to him.

Leading you to this moment.

"As sweet as that is," you sighed, happy moments quickly passing. "The fact is the rest of the world doesn't see it that way. I am hardly a Tallest in their eyes, and that's going to have a large impact on my future."

Zim narrowed his eyes. "It's not sweet, it is the salty cheesy taste of truth! And if those scum-worms fail to realize it, then we shall burn their empire of lies to the ground and raise a new mighty empire! The mightiest of schools! Educate these pathetic earth-worms about their insignificance! And then we shall conquer the rest of the universe!"

It was definitely the hysteria setting in as you laughed slightly, shaking your head at his antics. If only the world worked like he believed. Or that you could be so full of passion and conviction. Things would be so much better.

Your phone suddenly rang, breaking the moment of silence. You half expected it to be the school already, announcing that you were officially fired.

Instead, it was Professor Membrane.

Oh stars, had Dib already told him? How was he going to react? Did he believe the forged documents? How would you even explain?

You answered before you could lose yourself in your anxieties, though before you could greet Professor Membrane via the holo-screen, Zim appeared between you and the screen with a snarl. "Who dares interrupt the Mighty Zim!"

"Zim, calm down," you chided exasperated as you gently nudged him to the side so you could see Professor Membrane, your stomach twisting in knots. He… did not look happy. Granted, he rarely did. The man was rather stoic thanks to his face being hidden most of the time. Yet what you could see of his expression was more severe than you were used to. "Professor?"

"Dib has explained that you are facing dismissal from the school,” Membrane explained. “While I do my best to avoid nepotism, I want to encourage you to apply to Membrane Labs. We've opened a new department for educational outreach programs and we’re hiring people from various backgrounds."

You gaped at him, stunned by his words. A job offer was the last thing you had been expecting. A job at Membrane Labs. A world-renowned employer and very particular on who they hired.

"Eh? No!” Zim moved so he was looking over your shoulder, clutching at you while hissing at the screen. “You are not allowed to steal Mx. Nemo away just because those idiots think they can command them! They will be returning to school to rule with an iron fist!"

"Zim. It doesn't work like that," you sighed before looking back at the professor. Surely you had misheard him, or somehow misunderstood him. "And… are you sure? I mean, this whole debacle just started, I haven't even been technically fired yet…" and you weren't even sure how much Dib had told him. How much did he know?

The professor simply nodded. “Yes. You were the reason that we created the new department, and it seems fitting for you to be a part of it. I wasn’t going to ask previously because I knew you valued your teaching profession, but the revelation of your situation has changed my mind.”

#invader zim #professor membrane #enter the florpus #dib membrane #invaderzim #catching flies #invader zim zadf #professor membrane x reader #invader zim fic #catching flies fic

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someone1348 · 1 year

Note

Hello there! I red almost all of your ROTTMNT related stuff and I must say your writing is sooooo good! You have a talent for that!

Also, if you dont mind me askin, I would really love to see how Lou Jitsu (in his human form and/or as Splinter) would react to have around a ticklish Y/N.

Also, any possibility that we could see Draxum too with a somehow Ler behaviour towards Y/N?

With that said,

Hope you havin a great day!

HIII! THANK YOU SO MUCH! I am so so so sorry this is so late but I still hope you enjoy!

This is such an amazing request! I'm so excited to do this!

I hope you have an amazing day as well my friend! :]

Tw: none this is adorable!

Side note: All of this is completely platonic!

With all of that being said let's get into it!

-K :]

____________~☆°♡°☆°♡°☆~_____________

Lou Jitsu! (Human form):

-We're gonna assume for these headcannons you're an actor that was meant to do a movie with him (because I can't think of anything else for human lou!) But!

-He's Having a field day when he found out you were ticklish

-You were anxious about a scene because no matter what you tried it kept getting turned down and nothing was going right

-So he knocked on your trailer door with a rose to try and help cheer you up after the scene was shot for what felt like the 50th time

-After he put the (non thorned) rose in your hair/behind your ear and it accidentally tickled your neck he was on cloud nine!

-"Are you?-" "nO!"

-He tickled you to make you smile, after getting the go ahead, because he's respectful! and reassured you that the scene didn't matter and that everything was going to be okay!

-Let's just say now every time you have stage fright, he'll always be right there to make it all feel better again, in his own little Lou jitsu way!

Splinter! (Lou in rat form!):

-He already knew you were ticklish from seeing the way you acted with his boys!

-So when he finds you alone, upset, he sat down next to you until you were ready to talk about it

-"If any of my boys did this I promise you they'll be grounded" he said half jokingly trying to get you to crack a smile

-after you calmed down enough he asked if it was alright to hug you which you happily accepted he gently nuzzled his whiskers into a tickle spot of yours which got you giggling

-"This normally helps my son's I don't understand what's got you so giggly, I said nothing funny" He joked as he skittered his fingers around more of your tickle spots

-He continued until you felt better again

-"I'm always here if you need anything kid, you're family, no matter what"

Barron Draxum!:

-He is both happy and intrigued! And confused!

-He doesn't know the first thing about humans so when he poked your side to get your attention and you laughed he looked at you as if he was solving a difficult math equation!

-"Why did you laugh? What was that?" He asked in his monotone voice as he did it again to experiment what was happening

-After you explained to him what was going on, and he remembered what Mikey told him about it, he nodded

-"I see, can I do it again?" He asked curious to learn more, it could be a useful weapon, you never knowww (his words!)

-I mean can you blame him, it worked before ('Many Unhappy Returns' episode!)

-If you said yes to his request he's going to run every experiment possible, like Donnie, to study more and learn more about these humans

-He will absolutely be reporting this back to Mikey!

-I wish you the best of luck my friend!

-In the future though if you ever do need a pick me up, Draxum will be there too, You're a friend of the turtles so you're family to him

---------------------------------------------------

I'm sorry if these were too short! I hope you all enjoyed them anyway! :]

I hope everyone has a great day/evening/night! Because you truly deserve it! Treat yourself, Take care of yourself and know that I am so proud of you for existing! /p /gen /pos

-K :]

#k writes tk things #rottmnt tickle headcannons #rottmnt tickle #ler!loujitsu #ler!splinter #ler!barrondraxum #ler!draxum #lee!reader

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ashes-writing · 2 years

Text

wild one pt ten | stranger things ; g.emerson

tag list babes || req rules / fandoms+characters || send ?s || masterlist

CHAPTERS ;

one + two + three + four + five + six + seven + eight + nine can all be found by clicking. stranger things masterlist is here.

AUTHORS NOTES;

Yeah, I know okay? I knowww. This story still has a chokehold on me though, so yeah I'm still writing it. This is just one more bit of filler before school begins for everybody. More fluff because I need it like I need air. That being said, there will be stress and angst and other little things here and there, so uh.. Please don't hate me if/when those start happening, 'kay?

Huuuge hugs and so much love to everyone who is actually still reading this fic of mine + any of my other writing because honestly when I came back and decided that maybe it was okay to share again, I was doing it with nothing more than the intent to get it out there and out of my head and I'll be honest, I still very much am. So all the interaction oh my god, you guys have me blown away, seriously. Like.. i can't even begin to express it -or thank you all enough.

SUMMARY;

-- cheerleaders and drummers/freaks don't mix. Or so it's been said. We'll see how this goes for these two, senior year is nothing if not stress-filled.

PAIRING;

Gareth Emerson x Fem!Reader

{ beyond outfits , side characters, glasses, female parts and personality, i triiiiied to make her blank, i s2g. i'm still learning and transitioning from OC to reader inserts }

WARNINGS;

an overload of fluff. awkward parental meetings but also cute (Gareth meets the dad). swearing. just cuteness here, not too much to worry about.

TAGLIST;

@allelitesmut

@aries-arcade

@aurumbelis

@cole22ann

@chieflawyerpastatoad

@ebonybloom

@fandomfreakforever

@hcloangcls

@heyaitsklaudia

@hoeshii

@hotgirlsshareaccounts

@krys-orion

@letsbedragonstogether

@louderfortheback

@musichealsscars

@oflavenderandevie

@scoobiessnacks

@suits-and-smirks

@secretsicanthideanymore

@thechoiceslookgrimm

@untitledarea are the only names on my stranger things taglist. if you'd like to be added please click the link up top or let me know.

OTHER STUFF;

Gareth has been aged to 18. The Upside Down has never existed here, this is slice of life stuff. That means Starcourt Mall exists and so does Benny's Diner and all the other places that were destroyed in the past. It also means absolutely no deaths and writer, making up her own weird attempt at an interesting plot, lol.

He’s nervous as hell about meeting your father. One, he’s never had to meet a girls parents before and two, he’s never been brought home as the boyfriend before. Third and final, your father is just a little intimidating, just a little imposing at about 6’1 with the burly muscles of a former athlete. Add to that that he’s been to jail before and yeah… Gareth Emerson is very intimidated, very nervous.

He’s been standing on the step for nearly a minute, working on pulling himself together. He knocks and the door is thrown open by Max. He can hear the sounds of a race full blast on the television and Max nods to your closed bedroom door.

Inside the bedroom, you are frantically trying to at least clean a little so that Gareth doesn’t take one look at the space and realize he might just be dating an actual gremlin or something like that. You don’t hear Max when she calls your name over the full blast sound of your radio. Out in the living room, Max nudges Gareth and nods to your closed door. “She really likes you. She never even tries to clean her room, man.”

Gareth chuckles. But Max’s statement kind of sticks with him and as he lingers in the hallway, he’s smiling to himself just a little more.

“Go on, she’s not gonna mind.”

You’re just about to try tossing a heap of clothing into your closet when you turn and find yourself body to body with Gareth. And you’re blushing. Gareth’s eyes dart around, taking in the chaos that is your bedroom. The books all over the place, candles everywhere, posters for movies ranging from horror movies he recognizes to some movie he’s never even heard of but the poster has a black Trans Am similar to your car.

The stuffed animals on your bed have him chuckling and you biting your lip and fidgeting as you try to stand so that you’re blocking his view, pouting at him as you lightly swat at his chest. “Hey!”

“It’s cute, baby.” Gareth is quick to reassure you and it really does help. You know Wes is only teasing because he’s your dad and he loves you, but he’s forever giving you shit about your softer side because he’s just not the best at being a girl dad.And you love him to pieces, but these are facts.

You smile a little. “Smart answer, baby. Because they weren’t going anywhere.” you gaze up at him when you say it. He laughs and shrugs.

He spots your crossbow and picks it up, a brow raised.

All you do is shrug. “Wes, he ah.. He got it in his head a few years ago that he was going to take up hunting. Apparently, this meant that I, too, was going to pick it up. So we both got crossbows, we both learned to use said crossbows and now they just kind of sit around. Because ultimately, when he realized that hunting involved sitting outside in the cold and hours of waiting, he couldn’t be bothered.

“Yeah, remind me not to make you mad near this.” Gareth is teasing and you shrug, laughing softly. “To be fair, my aim is probably shit. I haven’t shot it in like.. Four years now?” you’re shuffling your feet against the thin carpet. “As you can see, I’m a mess. I was uh.. I tried to clean it up.” and you’re laughing softly. Gareth just shrugs. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh yes, yes I did. Trust me, before I did it was at least fifteen times worse.” you sweep your arms out to gesture at the chaos and disorder of the pale pink room you stand in the middle of and Gareth shrugs. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

You hear your father booing a commercial and you grab hold of Gareth’s hand. You give him a reassuring smile because you can feel the tension rolling off him and you laugh softly. “Will you relax? He’s going to love you, okay?”

Gareth nods and swallows hard because he’s just not sure how this will go. He’s never been brought home by a girl to meet her parents. And he’s not entirely sure how to handle it now that he is. But it means so much to him that you want him to, it just further reassures him that you really mean it, that you really want to be his girlfriend and this won’t wind up hidden or something in a few days when school starts back.

You’re leading him into the living room, standing in front of the tv. Wes is nursing a Pabst and he looks from you to Gareth. You have a split second where you’re silently focusing all your will on Wes not playing to his inner antagonist tonight and scaring Gareth so much that he doesn’t want to come back around and you relax when your father nods and holds out a beefy and tattooed hand. “You the drummer? She’s always talking about you, kid. It’s nice t’ finally meet ya.” Wes rubs his chin and nods to you, “Gotta admit, I thought maybe she was makin y’ up, kid.”

“Oh my god, Wes!” you pout at your father. You can feel your face flame up and you palm your face. “Dude, that was not fair.” you pout at him. He chuckles and shrugs off the pout. “Your mama wasn’t a glassmaker, lil bit. Daddy can’t see the race.”

You step out from in front of the television and Wes chuckles. “It’s nice to meet you, kid. I’d tell y’ to treat her like a princess but I know my lil bit and I feel like maybe I should tell y’ good luck with that instead.” Wes is teasing you again and you stick out your tongue at him, shaking your head. “I’m not that bad, Wes, what the hell is today? Pick on trouble day?”

“Just have to have a little fun with you, lil bit. So, what are you two up to today?”

“We’re going to the mall. They put out that horror movie I’ve been dying to see, finally.”

“See if Max wants a lift, would ya? She’s too young t’ be bikin all over, especially by herself.” your father nods to Max’s bedroom door as he gives you a grin.

“Yeah, I’ll ask.” you smile. You know what Wes is up to, you can almost sense it in his smirk. And since things are going reasonably well, you walk back to Max’s room to ask if she wants a lift anywhere since you’re about to leave.

And out in the living room, Wes chuckles, gazing at where Gareth is standing as he nods to the sofa. “Grab a seat kid, you’re makin me nervous with the hovering.” Gareth sits down on the end of the sofa and he’s staring intently at his hands. This situation being new to him and your father being intimidating, he’s not about to risk saying anything that might make your father dislike him.

He’s surprised when Wes glances back. “Trouble’s gon’ kill me but… you wanna see some cute but embarrassing shit, kid?”

Gareth nods and Wes grabs a photo album from a cheap and sagging entertainment center and holds it out to him. “Go on, it’s okay, kid. She’s gonna strangle me, not you.” Wes laughs and adds with a smirk, “But I’m her father, I can embarrass her now and then.”

Gareth laughs and flips through the photo album, stopping on a photo of you being held by the bartender at the Hideout. Wes chuckles and nods to it. “Angel’s an old friend. Basically stepped in and saved me from fuckin up the poor kid entirely when her ma just bailed for Nevada.”

“She really loves you. She doesn’t think you fucked up.” Gareth muses, gazing at the older man with the graying braid and beard. Wes rubs his face and nods. “I know, just.. I was the last person who shoulda been trusted with a kid back then, man, let alone a daughter.”

Gareth doesn’t say it, but he’s thinking to himself that maybe being your father helped you a lot. Because you’re not like most girls he knows, you’re not fake and you didn’t immediately become a bitch when you got in with a popular set of people. You’re really independent and he finds this really hot and infuriating at times in equal measure. And now that he’s seeing your softer side, he really thinks that your father should give himself a lot more credit.

But what floors him is when Wes adds quietly, “I really like you, kid. And I know she does too. Even if sometimes, she doesn’t say it a lot. She’s more of an actions person, ‘kay? Just between us men.” he’s trying to reassure Gareth that you do really seem to like him a lot and that he knows you well enough to know that whether Gareth realizes it or not, he’s become one of the few people you really let in.

He’s saying it as your father, in the hopes that you don’t wind up getting hurt for it later down the line.

Because as your father, he knows this is the first time you’ve really gotten attached to a person like this.

You spot the photo album on the table between your father and your boyfriend and you palm your face as you glance at your dad. “Seriously, Wes? You seriously show him all that shit? Why?”

Wes chuckles and shrugs. “Seemed like a good idea at th’ time, trouble. You’re flustered, so it amuses me.”

“Ugh!” you’re pouting. Shaking your head and your face is hot. You’re just hoping to hell Gareth didn’t get to the latter part of the photo album because when your awkward phase hit, it hit you hard. Like ten rounds in the ring with Muhammad Ali. And it didn’t actually let up until the tenth grade.

“We’ll be back around like.. 10? 11?” you tell your father as you shove your keys into your pocket. Wes chuckles. “That works. Call if the movie runs over or something, kid. Take the tool kit! That damn car’s been iffy as hell lately!” your father calls out to you as you practically drag both Gareth and Max out the door of the trailer.

“I can literally die, right now. I can’t believe he showed you that.” you’re laughing and shaking your head. Gareth chuckles and shrugs. Smirking as he opens the door of the car up and nods to it, holding out his hand for your key.

“Excuse?” you’re pouting at him. Gareth laughs. “I’ll drive, alright, baby? You drive like you’ve got a thousand lives to spare.”

“I do not!”

“You actually kinda do.” Max pipes up from the backseat.

“You hush! You were okay with it when I was doing that burnout in the parking lot last week.”

“Yeah, because you made that stupid idiot frat boy choke on his words. But you behind the wheel is kind of scary.” Max laughs when she says it and you flip her off. “You got jokes today, do ya?” you’re teasing, laughing at her. “We’re supposed t’ be sisters, kid.”

You pout at them both but you place the keys in Gareth’s hand.

As you’re driving into town, Gareth chuckles. “It didn’t go as bad as I was thinking it would.”

You smile and nod, reaching out to caress his cheek. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you he only looks scary. He’s an actual giant baby.”

Gareth nods and laughs, the remainder of his tension back at your house melting away with the speed of light. You lace your fingers through his and lean back against the seat a little. “Max, did you want to go to El’s house or with us?”

“With you guys if it’s okay? El said she’d meet me there, Hopper is bringing her.”

You smile and nod. “Duh, of course it’s okay.”

She smiles at you.

As you’re getting out at the mall, Gareth slips an arm around your waist and you lean into his side as you walk in through the entrance. When you spot Caroline and her two friends, you roll your eyes. Gareth tenses, because he’s just spotted Andy, Chance and Patrick.

You pick up on the tension and you glance up at him, leaning against him even more. “Relax, okay? Just don’t let them get in your head.” and Gareth nods, but old habits die hard and he’s struggling with something right now. The little nagging doubt that somehow, they’ll get in your head and everything will be over.

“I mean it, baby. Don’t let them get in your head.” you repeat quietly, cuddling against him even more. “I want you. I mean that. You’re too easy to read, alright? I know what you were thinking just now.”

“Okay, alright. I’m just, ah.” he chuckles, biting back a groan as you melt against him and gaze up asking softly, “Yeah, baby?”

“I’m not used to this.”

“Me either. But it’ll be okay. You just can’t let them get in your head, baby.” you reassure him, raising up to plant a kiss against his lips and he deepens it. Max grumbles from nearby and you stick out your tongue at her as the little kiss breaks. She’s spotted El, so she takes off in that direction and you laugh. “Like she’s got any room to grumble, the amount of times I’ve walked in on her with Sinclair all cozied up together on the couch in the living room.”

Gareth snickers about it and nods. You gape at the line still left ahead of you. “We could wait until another night to see this. I mean, we’re never gonna get a ticket at this rate, people keep jumping the line.” Gareth laughs and nods. “We could.”

“C’mon. Let’s just like.. Wander around.” you’ve grabbed hold of his hand and he laughs, nodding.

The mall isn’t his favorite place but being there with you makes it just slightly better.

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader

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babiebom · 4 months

Text

Ranking The Doctor Incarnations by How Much I’d Get Along with Them

A/N: my obsession with doctor who is back!!! I’m waiting on the new episodes and it’s actually killing me. I put off watching the last 15 minutes of 13s last episode to wait for the specials then couldn’t hold off on watching all of the specials in my excitement so I have no more media to rely on:( ALSO this is nuwho I explain it every doctor who post bc I feel like it needs to be said that I still haven’t watched classic who.

Tw:some cursing, some sexual mentions, some bullying lmao

Wc:its rankings and headcanons idfk babes

Doctor Who Masterlist

This is going to go from who I’d get along with most to least <3

1) Eleven

Okay so he wasn’t my first doctor or the doctor I started liking the show for

That was nine <3

But when I do daydream about being the doctors companion he is the one that becomes the default in my mind

Like I think I’d get along with him the most

I have no idea why it’s just if I’m daydreaming he is the one whose arms I run into

He’s the one I’m fighting for

And it might sound insane but I just know in my heart that if I had to be a companion of any of the doctors I’d be his.

I also do think that there would be a romantic aspect but it would be because I’d have a big honkin crush on him and I’d bully him for it

Like EWWWWW him? He has cooties. Weird alien cooties that I don’t want on me HMPH.

He just seems sweet and chaotic and the most fun to be around

I also think he would dance around the console room with me.

Like we’d be absolute fools together I think we would give ten x rose vibes like not the romance just the comfortable vibe between the two (and maybe romance if he likes me <3)

2) Fifteen

I know he’s new

But HOLY HELL

He gives off bestie vibes

And I know with his whole “luck and coincidences are a new language that I’m learning” thing

Sorry I forgot exactly what he says and I’m writing this while watching another show

Is right up my alley

Like YES

This is chaos and it’s fun and he already seems more….relatable?

Maybe it’s the tism

But like he’s who I would want to go on an adventure on.

Like oopsies my bad forgot we were on The same team in this game

Lemme just casually get trapped in a giant snowman balloon thing(I forgot what they’re called)

Then tell the police that it’s literally fine and that I’m busy

It would be VERY fun to be with him based on what I’ve seen

Would also dance around the console room with me

Nine

I think we’d get along greatly when it comes to the silly things

But with the more serious things I think we’d have a falling out

Because unlike the other companions I am not here to make you better

I will make you worse

Like when Rose stopped him from killing that Dalek in the beginning

I would been like 👀 okay you killing him or not. That beef has nothing to do with me I won’t stop you from getting revenge

Mostly bc I am the type of person that believes in revenge instead of “being the better person”

Like letting them go means letting them continue causing mayhem

Like TAKE THEM OUT

Like not to get off topic but Batman annoys me bc why arrest the joker or the penguin again and again and again

When you could literally save tons of people by getting rid of them

Would probably be mad at me after like “now why tf would you let me do that????”

“Idk you wanted to so??????”

Maybe I would make him a softer person but overall I’m just along for the ride like brother YOU know everything I am just here

Ten

I love him with all my heart

But he would piss me off

Like we would get along

But if there’s any feelings involved he would just make this insufferable if he doesn’t like me enough to stop comparing me to rose

I am a tenmartha believer fight me

Don’t fight me I’ll cry

But like he sorta seems kinda….thoughtless when it comes to poc and it’s not in a purposefully offensive way but like I said it’s thoughtless

If it’s a world where rose didn’t exist, or she didn’t impact him like she did I feel like he would be sweeter

But also more of a fuck boy

I do think he has romantic compatibility with almost everyone so again that would be a problem or fine depending on how he reacts

That’s why he’s this low because I feel like it GREATLY depends on his moods and it’s sorta unpredictable for me.

Thirteen

She kinda had a “I know everything and you know nothing” attitude that I didn’t enjoy

And that would make us have a big falling out because while I am the type of person to follow almost mindlessly

I hate it when people speak to me as if I’m dumb it’s one of my pet peeves

But other than that I think we’d get along fine

Like I feel like it would be mostly fun with her other than the “im better than you” thing she has going on

Like I feel like getting to see Rosa parks

And the one where they go to the vacation planet

And the whole competition that was the first like travel thing

Like while I didn’t like the writing of the episodes that much I thought it looked really fun!!

She would be fun to be around especially with her awkwardness

Like I feel like how socially awkward she is makes everything better because it would be me and her traveling and neither one of us understand social cues properly

Like EVERYONE is gonna be uncomfortable

Super funny

Twelve

While I LOVVVVVVVE twelve with all my heart

I do not think he would be fond of me

Like he likes people that ask the right questions like Clara and Bill are VERY intelligent and curious and clever people

And I’m not

So I think he wouldn’t really enjoy my presence

Like the others could get over my personality

I feel like he would be unable to

Like he’d find me boring and uninteresting and maybe not unworthy of his time but he wouldn’t find traveling with me fun

He’d be like “wHY do you NOT ask the important things??????”

I would also fall in love with him and he’d be like “oh….no…..no thank you…...”

Fourteen

Is literally just ten but sad and old?

But also learning to love himself?

I feel like they’re the same but fourteen is wiser and less self absorbed?

Which means he should probably be higher

But I still have the belief that they are one in the same

So it doesn’t really matter that he’s last because it evens out?

#doctor who #doctor who headcanon #doctor who au #dw #dw headcanon #doctor who shitpost #dw shitpost #ninth doctor #ninth doctor headcanons #tenth doctor headcanons #tenth doctor #eleventh doctor headcanons #eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor headcanons #twelfth doctor #thirteenth doctor headcanons #thirteenth doctor #fourteenth doctor #fifteenth doctor

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justsomeoneunordinary · 6 months

Note

i randomly found your post about casual serbophobia (/post/655276183842406400/) while browsing and oh god i've been in the exact same boat from 5th grade onward, except i'm german and of serbian origin. up until 10th grade lots of my classmates (and kids in my grade in general) were albanian & kosovo-albanian and that really did a number on the development of my social skills. it doesn't help that the 1999 NATO bombing has been completely shoved under the rug and the only mentions you'll ever find of the yugoslav wars over here nowadays is in our social science textbook in the form of an argumentation task on who was in the wrong. sorry for the out-of-nowhere rant, just wanted to tell you that i really relate to what you wrote. it really is tiring, and i hope you're alright

no, no, you're good. and i fully get you. i still vividly remember how in elementary school my kosovo albanian and macedonian classmates would just randomly gang up at me to tell me how kosovo is its own country and how we serbs are evil for not letting it free - and we were like nine years old, i had mostly no idea what was even going on, neither did the other kids, they just parroted what their parents told them, and i was punished for simply being a serb, it was fucking wild. so i grew up thinking we're the bad ones, being ashamed of my heritage, and it really didn't help that a lot of serbs here can be quite bigoted jerks

it took me until well into my mid-twenties to finally wake up from this and realize that hey, that's not normal, and actually, i have nothing to be ashamed of. we have a beautiful and rich culture and i'm going to show it off proudly - а они који то не воле су добродошли да попуше курац

what's more difficult is trying to talk about the crimes done against serbs, because most people are more than willing to believe the western media when they paint us as the bad ones', even the ones who usually criticize western media. you point out the nato bombing, and people go "oh, but srebrenica", you point out the ethnic cleansing in kosovo and people don't believe you and go "but srebrenica" while they're at it anyway, you talk about jesnovac and people somehow still go "but srebrenica", which doesn't even make sense considering jesnovac happened decades before!

and look, i am absolutely disgusted by the genocide of bosniaks by serbs, i feel the bile rise up my throat every time i think about it, it was a horrible, inhumane thing that happened, and we absolutely need to talk about it. but it's WILD how any and all ethnically motivated crimes against serbs can be brushed off with "but srebrenica", no matter if they happened before or after, because apparently, ethnical cleansing is fine as long as it's against serbs

or they just shrug any of this off as nationalistic serb propaganda. and it doesn't help that there is a lot of nationalistic bullshit (one of the most difficult parts for me as an adult trying to reconnect with my culture was to learn to differentiate what are nationalistic lies and what's the truth; for the longest time i used to believe western media was right when they talked about kosovo and that my family was in the wrong), and it doesn't help that even in this day and age so many serbs will say that the genocide against bosniaks was necessary because "if we hadn't attacked first, they would've attacked us" (but then again, literally every. single. balkan country denies their own crimes, yet somehow, it's only us serbs they dogpile on), and it doesn't help that the only countries that support us are fucking russia and china, of all countries, and it doesn't help that there are so little trusted sources that talk about what the neo-fascist party albania's is doing in kosovo, so you feel like you're talking against a wall

it's tiering. ppl in real life won't listen, and when you reblog even a sourced post on tumblr about it, no one will look (or point out srebrenica, as if one genocide excuses another). here on tumblr, where ppl seem to inform themselves, the only platform i see talk abt armenia even. nix, nada, nothing when it comes to us. as i said, genocide seems to be ok if it's happening against us "evil, dirty serbs"

serbophobia is well and alive even today, if not quite as bad as it used to be - i at least don't have to worry abt not getting a job bc of my name, unlike my mum or worse, moja baba i deda - and all you can do is ignore the vile words and soldier on with your head held high and celebrate your culture. at least we'll always have each other

anyway, this turned out much longer than i wanted it to be, sorry. i get you - know that i'm mentally hugging you tightly 🫂🫂 и јебеш мајку сваког неуког идиота ;)

#may answers #anon

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sheviolentlyher · 6 months

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I am not crazy, I’m beautiful

A little red corvette holds nothing a bitchin fox body mustang.

Smoke break. Today has been eventful. I had many different experiences today. By the time nine p.m. came I was the tires marks of an old burn out.

I’m sitting in the passenger seat of my absolutely stunning convertible fox body “black beauty” mustang.

THINKING. 💭

Today I got rid of my lustless red nails. I exchanged them for the most beautiful, deep, vintage green. Paired with my gold jewelry that I never, ever, dare to take off, my hands take the show! Ah! I absolutely love my nail girl. She called me by my first name instead of using “mam” and to me that is respect. So I respect her. She seems willing to work with indecisive nature so it is a good match. I like that she suggests colors because her nails are always perfectly manicured and that tells me she has a good eye for color. She sets the trend.

I was gracefully able to plant my new live plant bulbs in my little aquarium world. I told those fish if they came near me— and I swore to god at them. Ha. It was a good time and I enjoyed our connection this morning and it made me feel accomplished. Which set the tone for the rest of the day.

Actually I lied. Maybe it was my outfit that set the tone. I tend to allow it to do that majority of the time. You know, the creative mind at work is a beautiful and flowing thing. No stress = no stress. Sometimes I do let it get in the way of my day when I fall out of the creative mindset. But you know a good friend of mine said “practice, practice, practice “ and my mind took that seriously. Which obviously is a healthy thing for the mind to do- exercise itself.

After feeling fabulous and beautiful, I was able to actually go home and eat lunch! Now, I have a few ideas here. The first is - who the fuck set the time frames for breakfast,lunch and dinner? Because fuck that. I’m gonna eat what I want when I’m hungry. These invisible time frames got to go. I have control over when my body eats because I know when it’s hungry 😂 like what the fuck , it’s the simplest logic but again, humans tend to complicate things on a regular fucking basis. Yet, I still forgive for this, always.

My son had his first sleepover today and I feel good for him. He needs connection. He needs an outside source of reset. Time to be himself. If that makes sense? To be around likewise minds makes more sense. His sibling relationships can be difficult sometimes considering the age gaps in all of them. That’s natural disconnect due to knowledge and life experience. Nothing I’m worried about. My kids love each other, but we all need breaks from the ones we love. 😉

I decided today I was gonna buy myself a good pack of pre-rolled cannabis flower. I got a floral indica called Violet Fog. I can tell you right now that after smoking that? My aura is radiating purple. A beautiful, perfectly violet, violet. 💜 I am not crazy, I’m beautiful.

I got to spend one on one time with my beautiful and blooming daughter. I want to know so much about her, and I want her to teach me how to be a girl in this world. We went on a search for a new beanie boo, she is an angel and deserves the entire world. After the second store we finally found the perfect new addition to her deeply valued collection. A black dragon we named Dungeon. 🖤

My teenager needs to learn that I am his ally, not his enemy. He needs to learn communication skills, problem solving and self regulation. He needs to be able to sit at the captain’s table with his father and I and collaborate. I plan to make a schedule applying this ideology. I look forward to implementing it as healthy discipline that will also be advantageous to him on the outside world. It’s fucking tough, but I’m a tougher bitch. Again, not worried.

I’m starting to feel like my name should come with a “your majesty” in front of it. I want my kids to feel safe enough to constructively teach me about themselves in order for me to cultivate the healthiest connections I possibly and humanly can. I’m trying to active their creative minds. Thinking of ways to get them to truly show themselves. I believe in solid parental guidance and pushing, it never ends, we will always and forever be wiser than they are. Why watch them crash? No, teach them how to fly in the home and they will soar out your door. I promise.

BUT naturally parents want control, which doesn’t even exist, so they are doomed. 👀🤭 kidding - but am I?

Kids don’t understand the “in between” that it takes to establish connection. They just immediately want. I like to think that I the ability to show people this “in between” in hopes that I open up new neuro pathways in their mind. I am the messenger sis, like what else?

I’m having a great time with this very intimate and interpersonal relationship that I am building within myself. Allowing me to do the same in all my relationships. Yes, there are bad days. Yes, there is pain. Yes, there is grief. But it cannot always be night, so- the sun will always rise.

I got my kids almost right where I want them and that keeps me driven. Because when they get where I want them, then it’s time for the next level of lessons and leadership. You have to reevaluate the situation while considering all your new experiences and knowledge every once and while in order to thrive. Change is the only existing constant in the world. The only.

It’s getting late and my throat hurts. I’m sure I will have the most sexiest voice in the world in the morning. I think my voice is stunning, lulling, influencing, silver, maybe even gold. I’m loving myself hard as fuck right now. Hell yeah. My hand is freezing but it still looks fucking stunning so cold therapy sets in and I’m calm again. I want to go upstairs and hope that the classic tv section on Pluto tv 📺 is playing The Rat Patrol or Sea Hunt. I would not even get back out of bed to brush my teeth if these were playing. I’d even consider The Twlight Zone. I came across The Rat Patrol mistakenly and I was captured immediately. I laid in bed for a good hour and a half with my bebe boo boo baby child laid behind me, back to back just like we like it. We were comfortable and content so I was able to pay attention to the plot line of this series. IN LOVE. YOU MEAN NAZIS? AGAIN!? MISTAKENLY?! 😩👀🥰🥰❤️😑😑😑😑🤭😂👀

What is the world trying to teach me right now? I don’t know and some days that makes me so fucking angry, and some days it makes me so fucking holy. And I want it to be holy for the rest of my life while indulging in the angry with lust, sex, passion, rebellion. All healthy of course. Regulate it into something healthy. It’s there. You’re just not looking. Stop TRYING to look and just stare. It will sorta feel a bit cross eyed at first but it will focus itself eventually, and you will know exactly what it looks like when it comes INTO focus.

Till then. Be good for mommy. 💋

-x

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gerec · 1 year

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More from my Actors verse From Lovers to Friends and Back Again with Logan and Charles finally together and the two of them about to start shooting 'Days of Future Past' with Erik (Charles' ex).

-----

There’s giggling in his living room.

Giggling, and hushed whispers, coming from his agent and his PA; never a good way to start the day, as far as Logan is concerned. He pads down the hallway from his bedroom towards the kitchen, ignoring whatever shenanigans the two are getting up to in the other room. There’s a pot of freshly brewed coffee for which he’s exceedingly grateful, and he pours himself a large mug, grinning as he skims through the texts from Charles that had come through while he was asleep.

He checks the time now; it’s nine am in L.A. which makes it five pm in London, and that means Charles is likely just finishing up a long day of press interviews. It won’t be for a few more hours before he can call Logan from his hotel room to catch up – on how the press tour is going, and maybe have some long overdue video sex. Good thing he’s got nothing scheduled for today but his regular workout, because Charles has been gone for over two weeks now and Logan needs to see him and hear his voice, before he goes crazy and hops on a plane to England to surprise him.

Maybe he’ll do it anyway, and finally ask Charles to officially move in with him after a year of dating.

(If it’d been up to Logan, they would have moved in together the day Charles finally asked him out on a proper date.)

Still, he understands the impulse on Charles’ end to take things slow, and to enjoy their time together without the specter of ‘what comes next’ hanging over the relationship. Logan however, is pretty much ride or die for Charles Xavier - and has been for most of the eleven years they’ve known each other - and doesn’t have any doubts about his long-term goal. He’s going to put a ring on it as soon as he finds the perfect moment, which is whenever Raven tells him her brother will actually say yes…

(Possibly after they finish the Days of Future Past shoot, assuming they both pass the Lehnsherr test.)

He snaps a picture of Wolverine and sends it to Charles, giving the chocolate lab a good scratch behind his ears as he drinks his coffee.

“I know big guy. I miss him too.”

The dog whines in agreement; he absolutely prefers Charles’ company and attention, even if he’s technically been Logan’s dog for the past five years. The beast is constantly flopping on top of his lover and asking for cuddles, and trails behind him from room to room and level to level. Kitty had joked once that Logan and Wolverine were equally enamored with Charles, and they’d have to learn to share him because Charles didn’t pick favorites.

Logan didn’t tell her how right she was, and how often Wolverine sleeps with them in their bed.

He dumps the dregs of his coffee down the sink and puts the mug in the dishwasher, and goes to let the dog outside so he can do his business and run around in the yard. When he returns, Raven and Kitty have migrated into the kitchen, whispering and staring at their phones as they indulge their caffeine fix. There’s a funny look on Raven’s face when she turns to greet him, and the fact that she doesn’t sling an insult his way makes Logan freeze in his tracks. “What?”

“Read any headlines yet, boss?” Kitty asks, pouring entirely too much cream and sugar in her coffee. He’s given up on lecturing her about her terrible eating habits, because ‘he’s not her Dad, and he can’t tell her what to do when it’s not about work’.

“No,” he says, and absolutely does not like the look the two of them share over their mugs. “Am I going to see something that’ll piss me off?”

“Maybe,” Raven hedges, then sighs and taps something on her iPad before sliding it over to Logan. “A picture of Charles and Erik together went viral a few hours ago on social media, so the studio sent news out about ‘Days’ to ride the hype. They’re still going to do a proper announcement next week but it’s all over Twitter that a sequel to ‘First Class’ is coming with the original cast.”

Logan reads the headline and curses, dreading how much of a shitshow it’s going to be for all of them, now and in the foreseeable future.

XAVIER AND LEHNSHERR REUNITE FOR FIRST CLASS SEQUEL!

WILL LOVE BLOOM AGAIN FOR THE STARCROSSED LOVERS?

#gerec writes #xavierine #actors verse #actors au #from lovers to friends and back again #technically this is the beg of a new chapter in the sequel #happily ever after...maybe #cherik

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pers-eids · 8 months

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i miss my mommy.

i’m twenty-two years old, and i miss my mommy.

maybe it’s because i’m finally moving out, moving on, and this is the last chapter of my childhood that is left, and it’s ending. it’s ending, but not of my own volition; i would stay young forever, if i could, and watch over my brother and sister while they play, and make simplistic lunches for the three of us, because the responsibility always fell to me, and i could try to protect them better than i did. than i have.

i miss being four, before the first of my siblings was born, and knowing with absolute certainty that my mother was mine; that she loved me, that i was her little girl, that she was my mom and nobody else’s. i wasn’t especially jealous as a child—i never fought for her attention, not that i remember, because i was old enough to understand that a baby was the priority. i wasn’t jealous, or overly dramatic, but there came a time in my childhood when the responsibilities of a mother were pushed on to me, and suddenly i was to nurture, to comfort, to protect. she fed them, changed diapers, played out the legal requirements that come with parenthood; all the physical things i couldn’t do because i was too young. i’m convinced if i’d been older then that would’ve been part of my role as well: to provide. suddenly i was all of these things, and the mother that i’d previously had just…disappeared. it wasn’t like she’d never existed, because i saw her here and there in smaller increments, but the mother that i grew up knowing—that held my hand and dolled me up and dropped me off at preschool and raised me the way only a mother ever really could—she wasn’t mine anymore.

i learned about sex in elementary school, as was apparently common amongst my peers, and i knew the word ‘rape’ at nine or ten. what i should’ve known, if my mother hadn’t been so negligent, was that the game i’d been talked into playing several times with the neighbor girl my age was actually assault. my understanding of rape at so young an age was that it was always violent, and it was always done by men to women. i had absolutely no idea that what my little neighbor had done was considered rape. no idea whatsoever. my grandmother, the one on my dad’s side, had always made it clear that children should know the in’s and out’s of their bodies. my christian mother had always despised the idea, just as she despised my father’s mother, and sometimes i want to blame her for what happened to me. if she hadn’t been such a goddamned prude, if she had only explained what intimacy was, and that it was only ever done by consenting adults, i know i likely would have told someone before i completely lost my chance.

then, of course, there’s the events that have occurred between my mother and the other members of my family. there’s the abuse, the narcissism, the neglect, the gaslighting, the hate speech. there’s my two younger siblings who look to me as their mother, who’ve accidentally called me ‘mom’, who have no emotional connection to her. there’s the time she hurt them, the meals they’ve gone without, the danger she’s put them in. there’s my dad, who was a victim to her reign of terror, who loved her despite it, who looks at her now and sees nothing of the woman he loved but still feels guilt for talking badly about. there’s the years of trauma that i am still trying to unpack, to make sense of; screaming matches, weapons being pulled, hissed voices, threats, flinches, hate, hate, hate. there’s the way my mother looks at me like i’m delusional, like i will never know myself the way i claim to, like it’s absurd i ever could. there’s the life i stripped from her by being born, whether it was her choice or not, and the fact that i am two years older than she was when she had me.

i miss my mommy. i regret so much, for the both of us, because a part of me still loves her, will always love her, even through all the pain i have had to endure because of her choices. i no longer believe in god, but i pray for her to whoever will listen, because i know when she prays for me it is with a name i no longer use. i pray she finds herself again, and spends the rest of her life begging my forgiveness, because i want her. i want her to love me, to like me, to see me; it is a type of want that fills up the black, rotted mass of weakened muscle behind my broken ribs, and it is far too great a beast to ignore. i want my mommy. i miss her. it’s as simple a statement as anything, yet i cannot dare to confess it to her face, much less utter it from the tongue she made me.

e.p

#isnt it so beautiful?#i miss her more than anything #and still i am nothing #i am her flesh and blood #but still she sees nothing #mommy issues #original work #writers on tumblr #literature #original poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #poems

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cordycepsfem · 10 months

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Pageboy Readthrough, Part Nine

Previously

your reviewer digresses into why this book isn't good (beyond the absolute drowning sadness and every single human who failed EP from start to finish)

I am not on the New York Times bestseller list (or am I? you don't know)

EP plays a horrifically abused young woman in a film and it affects her deeply, leading to furthering her eating disorder

we learned about a handful of things that weigh approximately 84 pounds

EP auditions for Juno and gets the part

she becomes sexually involved with Olivia Thirlby

EP loves working on Juno and is happy

Now

Chapter Eleven

EP tells us that she didn't vomit from the age of eleven until the age of twenty-eight

this suitably impresses me, because as a medically interesting individual I have a lot of experience with nausea and vomiting

EP then goes on to tell us that just because she didn't vomit doesn't mean she didn't get sick in other ways

this does not impress me and is gross

EP writes this very insightful passage about gender dysphoria that I actually agree with

the part I blacked out was where she said she kept repeating "I want to be a ten-year-old boy" every time dysphoria swept over her, because I do not agree with that and find it extremely telling and sad

EP segues bizarrely from vomit to diarrhea to... soccer?... and then back to fights with her step-mother and her awful father

and then to a story about going to a cabin and I am once again whiplashed into the corner - didn't this start off with vomiting at the age of 28?

anyway, Canadian stuff:

well, really just beaver stuff, but it happened in Canada so I'm still right:

I want with everything in me to make several beaver jokes but I am a) very tired and b) confused and excited by the comparison of a beaver to the Babadook, so please make your own beaver jokes and meet me in the next dotted point whenever you're ready

EP's father and step-mother continue to be the worst; they call her "Skid Mark"

her father tells her they're just joking around and once again I would like someone to consider the difference between someone joking with you and someone joking about you

once again I would like to offer my own, better, nicer parents to EP

I have extolled my father's many virtues but my mother is also fantastic

EP then shoves us into a passage about Rollerblading

and I have to say that I would also vomit from this much whiplash

the Rollerblading passage takes a wild turn into a Rollerblading accident where EP tears something in her vagina

she is worried for years that something is wrong with her vagina

EP starts thinking about it again when she's dating a boy who she attempts to have sex with; she doesn't like it, so she assumes it's a physical thing rather than a "you're gay" thing

and once again your reviewer is like "Didn't we start out a party on the first page of this chapter where you were vomiting at the age of twenty-eight on the Fourth of July? I am now lost in the hinterlands sending up a flare for aid"

so EP goes to a gynecologist

the gynecologist tells her there is nothing wrong with her vagina

and also that she liked EP's performance in Hard Candy

and we NEVER GO BACK TO THE VOMITING THING

AT ALL

Jesus Christ, EP, what is this writing style because I both hate it and am impressed by it every.single.time

Chapter Twelve

EP is glad that Oscars season is almost over and she is glad

she wants to quit acting

she can't bear wearing "feminine" clothing or going out for super feminine roles

when asked why she can't just do her job as an actor and wear a costume:

as a fellow head-beater and self-injurer, I get it, EP

best to get out of a job that doesn't make you happy and isn't fulfilling your needs

it took me seven years but I eventually did it

I am still unsure why she couldn't figure out how to tell people she just wanted to wear pants

but as someone who took thirteen years to tell her mother she wanted long hair and to stop wearing dresses, maybe I am less unsure and just more of a very specific type of asshole

anyway

EP gets the role in Whip It, the film that convinced me I wanted to try roller derby

she actually learns to play roller derby, which is so cool

(it is the best of sports)

the woman EP was dating previously, Paula, moves out to LA to be her "assistant"

EP starts to get recognized more as Juno and this is hard on her relationship with her "assistant"

there is an amusing bit about how Paula's parents somehow had no idea EP was gay or that their daughter was gay

also EP is upset that "cis" people get lauded for playing trans and "queer" parts

there's a lovely bit here about roller derby:

I joined a roller derby team because I had no friends

the skating part didn't matter, I just wanted friends

(and sure, maybe to be cool like EP, who I had a major crush on)

but I got a whole lot of friends out of the thing and that was very definitely a "pocket of joy" in my life

and yes, there can be a lot of "intertwined queerness" but the majority of my team is still straight (I love them anyway)

I am going to be able to see them all for the first time in 5 months and I am so excited to see my crazy weird skating family

it is a sport that embraces female power

it makes me feel like my body is powerful

and as someone living with dysphoria and body dysmorphia that's huge

anyway

EP loves roller derby and she loves building a roller derby family with her castmates

they go to Michigan to film

fun fact: Michigan has the most roller derby teams than any other state in the US

second fun fact: I used to live there

third fun fact: I know a guy who played an extra in Whip It but I didn't learn that until after we met and that wasn't the reason why we met

fourth fun fact: I miss Michigan a lot

EP and Kristen Wiig make up a musical together that sounds absolutely hysterical

EP realizes stuff is absolutely fucked and goes to therapy

EP, light of my life for whom I would fight all kinds of Canadian step-mothers and shitty fathers, what in the nine heavens is a queer walk?

I mean I can guess the connotation but EP you are a lesbian and a human and speaking as both we all walk differently

so this is some sort of weird stereotype that I really don't care for

and on that note I must adjourn before I fall asleep here at the computer

#radblr #radical feminism #terfs do touch #ellie's ep posting #pageboy readthrough #terfblr

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sea-side-scribbles · 2 years

Text

Fanfiction: You Always Meet Twice

Link to ao3

Chapter 24

Outside, Nick looked into all directions as his curiosity took over him. Morrie liked the sight. Finally something else than surrender and misery. “Where are we going?”, he asked. Morrie decided to do things a little different this time. “Where would you go?” “I...” Nick searched. “The water is this way, right?” He pointed at a direction. “Right. Your memory is getting better.” The skilled Wastrel was actually surprised. He had assumed to ask him tomorrow and having to explain it all over again. “And that...disgusting house was somewhere there?” “U-huh.” Morrie tensed. “Uh, so better not this way”, he concluded and Morrie relaxed again, glad he didn't have to risk another breakdown for now.

Nick sighed. “Where was that village?” “Hey, you're already drawing a map in your head”, Morrie noticed. “I'm impressed.” “Heh...I just like to know where I am. In Hamlyn Village, I had to avoid special places. Not everyone liked me.” Morrie could imagine. Nick didn't seem to notice what he said. “Uh...where is it now?” The other Wastrel crossed his arms behind his back. “Guess.” Nick tapped his chin. Then he waved his hands around. “There somewhere?” It was almost right. “That's where we went to the coast. The village itself is further to the east.” Morrie pointed to there. “Alright.” Nick looked around as if he noted all the spots they mentioned in his mind. “You know...I'd like to head south...where the sun is.” “That's fine with me”, Morrie agreed, and so they went for a stroll.

Morrie once again liked the walk. It eased his mind just to move around, even if they had no particular goal. He still looked out for any useful plants. Didn't have to ignore them, after all. “So, what else are you doing in the Garden District?”, Nick asked after a while. “What do you mean, what else?” “What do people do in their free time?” Morrie scoffed: “Oh, you mean when they come back from their nine-to-fives in the village?” Nick pouted. “Come on, man, there must be something else they're doing other than running for berries and water.” “Well, you've seen those in the house”, Morrie deadpanned. Nick threw his arms up in frustration. “Come on, now! What is it with you? You seem to love wallowing in sadness.” Morrie's voice became sharp: “I am just trying to explain the gravity of your situation!” “But...but look at us!” The skilled Wastrel looked at Nick. “Yes?” “We do have free time now, do we not?” Morrie sighed deeply. “A few hours, yes.” “So, are we the only people in the Garden with free time now? Or any time?” Morrie didn't like that conversation. He fell quiet, hoping that Nick would proceed to another subject. Of course that was not what he did.

“Okay, okay, don't tell me then! It's fine! It's not that I'm trying to understand this place better or something!” Nick sounded really sore. It wasn't that he didn't deserve to know. It was that Morrie didn't want to talk about it at all. He had seen the people in Barrow Holm do multiple things: simple things, just as playing chess, or playing marbles with stones, some even tried to collect stamps. And here and there he met those who just went crazy. There was also a club that met daily where they pretended to read their favourite books together. Those books of course weren't available in the Garden, so they told the stories from memory. And they yelled at each other because they remembered the plots differently. Still others didn't stop talking about the past, no matter how horrible it was. The creepiest were those that were already dead inside. They did absolutely nothing except for eating and sleeping and staring into the void. Sometimes mumbling something to themselves. Of course the life in Barrow Holm wasn't all bad, but it was enough for Morrie to leave. What did Nick even want? What was so bad about a simple stroll?

“If you learned to survive on your own you can do what the hell you please”, he finally answered. “Just leave me if I'm so boring...” “That's not the point!”, Nick protested. “You're telling me that the Wastrels never come together for anything? Not even to play skat?” Morrie snorted. “If you have any cards, don't be shy.” “Really? Just draw some!” “You have a pencil then?” “Morrie!” The skilled Wastrel stopped and pointed forward. They stood in front of another cobblestone road. Multiple ruins stood in line, none of them had a roof. A few of them were only piles of rubble. “Look at this! This is what we have to deal with!”

Nick glanced at the chaos and swallowed. Still, there was a spark in his eyes. Fiercely, he turned around and said: “Remember the horrible house? There were dices, and board games, and toys...I just didn't touch anything because I...hated going through their stuff! But people like you, who don't mind, you would take that stuff with you, right?” Another sad sigh from Morrie. “I guess”, he admitted tiredly. “See?” Nick lit up. “That's all I wanted to hear!” Morrie continued the stroll. “Well, if you find the next bingo club, feel free to sign in.” Nick hurried after him. “What if there is one?” “Oh, dear...” “Did you even look for one?” Morrie realized that Nick had just found the next ridiculous spark of hope to hold on to.

“No. I'm not interested.” “See?”, Nick said again. “Perhaps that's your problem.” “It's not my problem, it's how I like to live. You can do everything different of course.” “Why do you want it this way?” It felt like talking to a damn child. “Oh, Nick”, Morrie moaned in exasperation. “That's probably something you'll need to learn for yourself.” Nick wasn't content with that answer. “Why? Why are you so secretive? I thought you wanted to teach me everything!” “Everything you need to survive, okay? Not how to play 'I spy' with your war-veteran friends.” Nick furrowed his brows. “War-veterans?” Morrie shook his head. “Look, Nick, I'm glad your senses woke up and everything, but this is too much for me now. I feel a hundred years older already. Can't you let me enjoy this evening in peace?” Nick pouted again. “Okay...”

A bush of yellow berries made Morrie stop and kneel down. “What is that now?” His companion was mildly interested. “Rowan berries”, the Wastrel explained, ignoring Nick's tone. “They don't taste so great, but they are good for Healing Balm. It's milder on open wounds and it's healing faster.” “I thought you need the roses.” “Them, too. Rowan berries are an improvement, but they are rare. They grow mostly in Lud's Holm, and...I don't like that place. Plaque and such. The roses are good enough.” Morrie busied himself with the berries. Finally some calming work.

The other man knelt down next to him and began to collect berries himself. Curiously, he turned one in his hand. “They aren't toxic, right?” “No. Just bitter.” Nick put it in his mouth and bit it open. He screwed up his face shortly after and began to cough. “Oh, shit...”, he muttered while munching. “It's only a tad better than starving...” Morrie chuckled. “Aww, and I planned to make a soup of them tonight.” “No, you won't!” Nick laughed with him. “Unless it's good for something.” “Healing inner wounds?”, the other man mused. “No, I don't think so.” “Couldn't we make tea with the tastier ones?” “The blue currant?” “Yeah. I miss tea.” “Sure.” Morrie wondered why he had never tried that. He only drank hot water when he was cold, a rather disappointing experience. “Awesome!”, Nick shouted out. “If you say so...” They harvested the bush until their bags were full.

“Alright.” Morrie stretched himself and let out a breath. “Let's head home.” “Already?” The Wastrel whipped his head around. “Well, you're the one I'm worried about.” “Don't worry, I'm fine.” Morrie shook his head. From where did that man get so much energy all of a sudden? He let his gaze wander. “I don't feel like climbing over ruins today...” Nick's expression changed. He looked like he understood. “Okay.” On their way back, Morrie noticed a bush of roses that he had ignored before. He plucked a bloom and held it out to Nick. “Would you mind learning to make this balm tonight?” Nick locked gazes with him. “Not at all.” So they harvested the flowers as well and carried them home. Despite everything, Morrie was very content with this trip. And in a way, also with his companion.

They spent the evening making the balm. It was a way to keep Nick focused on a task and distracting him from overthinking everything. Morrie felt too tired to talk about anything else but cooking recipes. Nick made fun of the smell and the looks of their selfmade medicine and he reminded Morrie very much of himself when he had seen it first. “Well, you know what you put on your feet next, Nicky?” The playful tone just slipped out of his mouth. “Aww, this stuff?”, Nick moaned, but not seriously. “I guess it's for the best.” “Exactly. I want to get rid of those bandages tomorrow.”

Nick looked down and wiggled his toes that stuck out. “I could use them as shoes though.” “No shoes”, Morrie reminded. “Number one rule in the Garden.” “But...but come on, there's a difference.” “Yes, but you better don't look any different. Also, we would be wasting cloth just for fashion.” “Hm. Alright”, Nick gave up. “But I really wonder if we have to be so anxious.” “I don't”, Morrie said firmly, closing the lids of the newly filled glasses. “Look, you were lucky that you found me. If you stayed outside that night you'd either be dead now or traumatized.” Nick pondered. He thought about the Wastrels he had seen so far. The ones with the shredded clothes and dead eyes. They had been strange but not aggressive. “They are so...sad and...so slow...Some looked like a small breeze could blow them away.” When Morrie turned his head, he saw Nick's doubtful face. And didn't he also look worried? And pitiful?

“I know”, he said quietly. “But they get very angry if you give them a reason. One misstep, and they chase you just like the Wellies chase Downers in town. I guess we never let go of our old habits...” Memories overwhelmed him. His fingers unwillingly played with the glass. He didn't see the look Nick gave him now, but he heard him say: “I'm sorry.” He earned a puzzled glance from Morrie. “Why?” “For what they did to you.” Morrie scanned the other man, but he found nothing but honest compassion in his face. Also, he felt ashamed for opening himself like that. He had mean to stay impersonal. He was just teaching Nick to stay alive. Nothing else.

He shook his head as if he could fight off Nick's pity like that. After taking a deep breath, he grabbed all the finished glass jars and said: “Alright, let's put these to safety. I leave to this for your feet.” He gestured towards a single jar before he escaped with his loot. Nick had the decency not to follow him upstairs. He put some of the balm into his drawer next to his bed. The other half...well, they belonged to Nick, right? He shoved them under Nick's bed, but he didn't really like that. Didn't he have a chest in this house somewhere that Nick could use? There was one in the second floor. Morrie went back to Nick who was sitting on the rug and treating himself with the improved balm. He sad down on the stairs and pretended not to wait. Nick didn't seem to notice him anyway. After a while, the new Wastrel was done and Morrie just randomly came down the stairs the right moment.

“Hey, Nick, uh...there's something I want to show you.” “Okay.” The former rockstar went back onto his feet. He moved so quickly now. Morrie still wondered where all that came from. They went into the upper floors while Morrie explained: “I think now that you...collect your own stuff you should have your own storage, what do you think?” “Sure.” In the second floor, Morrie went on: “I got this chest that I don't really need, so I thought we could place this next to your bed.” Nick ran over the wooden planks that connected the two parts of the second floor, so Morrie feared he'd trip and fall. But a second later, Nick was safe on the other side and tried to carry the chest alone. “Ah, that's heavy”, he moaned after pulling at it. “Yeah...that's why I thought we'd carry this both.” “What's in there?” Morrie now stood next to him. “Nothing. It's just a chunky piece of shit.” Nick chuckled. “Oh, great.” “Let's try together, ey?” They lifted the thing.

“Now if we break through the floor, we're there”, Nick commented, making Morrie laugh. “I hope not. But I wouldn't try the loose planks either. Look.” They let go of the chest and Morrie climbed down a hole in the floor from where he could reach the stairs. If you could give me the chest from here, we're almost done.” Nick eyed him doubtfully. “You think you can manage?” “Just look at me and look at you.” Morrie pulled back his sleeve for demonstration. He didn't know that Nick's heart jumped at the sight. “Yeah, you have a point.”

They went on with the plan and a few minutes later, Nick had his own chest standing by his bed. “Look at this. My very own stuff!”, Nick said solemnly as if he had never owned anything before. Morrie wondered if the rockstar really meant it the way he said it. “Huh, it's not a fortune, but it'll do.” “It's weird...”, Nick said, letting himself fall onto his bed. “I never had so much for myself in my old life.” “Are you kidding me?” “No. I had a big house and all, but that stuff belonged to the whole world! At least to Wellington Wells...And when I was alone...I felt like a stranger in my own home.”

Morrie wasn't sure if he described just royal pain or if there was truth in his words. Considering how many people came and went in the Fab Pad, it might not have felt like a home. But then again Nick had loved that, hadn't he? And he had been the one who ruled over everything, everyone. “Ah, I know that look”, Nick went on with a disappointed expression. “The Golden God of Rock had everything, right? Okay, forget it.” He spread out on the bed. “I don't know what you want to hear”, Morrie suddenly felt aggressive. “I would've loved to...” And then the feeling was gone. “Ah, forget it.” “You first.” “Pardon?” “I said 'forget it' first.” “Well, good luck with your memory then.” Morrie went to his own bed. “Hey, that's not fair! You said mine was getting better!” “Better, not good.” “Mine is alright! I'm not messing up my head anymore!” “Right...how come you didn't go cold turkey so far?” Morrie wished to bite his tongue just after. Don't jinx it, dammit! “I was never addicted!”, Nick said with utter conviction. Morrie snorted. “Sure.” “Prove me wrong!”

The other man didn't have an answer to that and their bickering stopped. Morrie lay on his bed, facing the ceiling and asked himself how he was supposed to keep this on. One moment, it was all innocent fun, and the other moment he felt on the verge of shouting at the man. To his defence, he learned faster than expected. He could be gone in a few days...

#we happy few #you always meet twice #nick lightbearer #morrie memento #nickxmorrie #wehappyfew #whf #whf nick #whfnick #nicklightbearer #morriememento #nick x morrie #the garden district #gardendistrict #garden district

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thedeskside · 2 years

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What It’s Like to Take Medication for Depression & Anxiety

Fact: I have been on selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors since my early 20s, and it’s changed my life—mostly for the better. But I would be lying if I said it was a great, smooth ride. Oh, yeah. I’m doing it. I’m going to be real…on the internet. I’m writing this because I needed to get it out, so, why not?

Also, mental illness awareness is important. I have a chemical imbalance that has affected my life, and I know there are so many other people out there that are just like me. Maybe this could benefit them. (But also, don’t follow me, I don’t know where I’m going either.)

It started a decade ago, right after my twenty-first birthday, I hit my emotional rock bottom. Somehow, I clawed my way out of an abusive relationship and crawled into a freelance career, but it was only because I finally decided to talk to my doctor about antidepressant medication. I started with Zoloft, and it really worked…until it didn’t.

My anxiety disappeared, but so did a lot of my feelings. Like, all of them. I had gone so long feeling numb that I hadn’t even realized what was going on until I reach my boiling point with my medication. For years everything was fine, or at least my version of ‘fine’. Frankly, I didn’t know that there was any other way to be or feel.

During the tail end of my Zoloft experience, after nine years of taking the medication daily, I went through a good six months of deep depression. I couldn’t get out of bed, or find the energy to feed myself, or bring myself to shower—and every single shower ended with a good five to fifteen minutes of uncontrollable sobbing. (Because, hello, depression!) I was failing at work because I couldn’t concentrate on a single task for longer than twenty minutes without a fog of disdain washing over me for every little thing that I did. Nothing was good enough.

My fiance tried, repeatedly, over the course of those six months to push me to get help, but I just wasn’t ready (or didn’t feel worthy of getting better). It was up to me to get better, and finally, after I reached the end of my Zoloft prescription, I agreed to talk to a therapist about trying another medication.

I started taking Wellbutrin, and slowly withdrew from Zoloft. It was a very odd time. On top of my depression, I had to deal with the common side effect that came with my new medication. I almost stopped eating altogether—my stomach was so fucked. I was nauseous for about three to four weeks straight, and couldn’t bring myself to crave anything. I had to force myself to eat popsicles and down multiple sodas to keep up my calorie intake because cooked food made me nauseous. Just the thought of some of my favorite fried foods made me gag. It led me to drop 15 pounds, but luckily these side effects were temporary.

After a few weeks, I could finally see the light. I absolutely felt different, but there is still a lot of give and take when it comes to mental illness. The Zoloft provided me with something crucial (er, or more like, it took it away)—I was emotionless, and I hadn’t even known it. I wasn’t feeling…anything while taking Zoloft, and now, I feel EVERYTHING. It’s quite a scary change.

People used to praise me for my ability to brush the worst things off and pick myself up quickly whenever I failed. I was unbothered by it all, and that was because of my medication. I used to think I just easily fell into positivity, but the truth was that Zoloft had blocked all of my emotions from coming to the surface. Now, I am a mushy mess.

I can’t believe the things I’m able to feel now—but this also includes pleasure. It’s a learning curve. I’ve learned to journal and meditate to try and calm myself long enough to understand what is going on in my head and body when I become overwhelmed.

Today I am in a lighter, brighter, more positive place, but I am still catching up in so many ways. I needed to stop fighting my own chemistry and work with it instead. I’m still not 100% at my best; my anxiety is in a whole different arena now that I’m getting in touch with new feelings that had been previously stumped out for nearly a decade by my other medicine.

I am a firm believer in freedom of choice, I by no means am trying to push anyone to seek meds when they don’t need them. That’s the thing though, some of us need them. And that’s perfectly fine, and nothing to be ashamed of. There were certainly times when I chose to take breaks from my medication and stopped taking them altogether. (Please don’t try this—I deeply regretted it every single time!) From those moments, I’ve learned that my body and my brain deserve kindness and clarity.

If you ever hear that terrible voice in your head telling you that you deserve this—you don’t deserve to get better. You are garbage and you deserve to feel like garbage…it is WRONG. I’ve heard this voice so many times, and it’s only kept me from getting better. In fact, that is when you should listen and do the exact opposite of what that little voice is taunting you with.