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prongsfish · 1 month

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@croptopjames / 1,015 words / happy bday jfp <3 - nsfw but fades to black

Regulus thought he might die, honestly.

This couldn’t be allowed. It was surely against the rules. Regulus wasn’t exactly sure what rules he was referring to (Laws against public indecency, maybe?), but somebody had to stop James Potter.

He knew exactly what he was doing, too. Chest puffed out, arms crossed, and leaning against the wall, all while idly rolling his wrist, the red cup in his hand moving in circles. Regulus couldn’t see into the cup, but assuming it wasn’t yet empty of beer, he thought the liquid sloshing around inside was likely reminiscent of the feeling inside his stomach. His smile too, of course, betrayed his self-satisfaction. The glint in his eyes said that he knew just how much he was affecting the other party-goers.

Regulus huffed over the man’s ridiculously large ego and tried not to think about how, at that moment, he was the perfect example to prove it justified.

And he definitely wasn’t thinking about the strip of brown skin between the top of his jeans and the hem of his shirt, which was much too small for him. The skin that was covered by it was only barely less inappropriate as he may as well have not been wearing a shirt at all with how tightly it clung to the contours of his defined torso.

He looks ridiculous, Regulus thought, like he’s wearing a kid’s t-shirt. He ignored the contrasting reaction his body seemed to be insisting on, but still couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away.

“Jesus Christ, mate, try not to drool,” Barty said from beside him. Regulus scowled but didn’t so much as glance over at him, despite having no clue when he got there. “I’ve seriously never seen you look this desperate. I’m a bit worried you’ll combust.”

“Shut up.” He replied through gritted teeth. Barty just sighed and pet him roughly on the back.

“Alright, whatever, I’m gonna go see if Dorcas has found anything stronger to drink yet. Have fun with your ogling.”

Regulus didn’t bother answering, instead taking a sip of the drink he’d been nursing for a while by then. He wasn’t exactly sure what was in it, but Pandora made it, so he wasn’t worried. Any other of his friends and he wouldn’t have dared touch it.

James had been talking to people most of the night and had only been on his own like that for a few minutes. Regulus watched him as he watched everyone else, had been watching him all night, really, but appreciated that he was standing still now. He swore that the man couldn’t stay in one spot for more than thirty seconds.

He didn't know why he felt caught out, then, when James' eyes finally wandered over to him, smirk widening to find Regulus’ eyes already trained intently on him. He wasn’t exactly being subtle, and James had been watching all around the room, of course he’d look his way eventually. If his brain hadn’t been occupied with… other details and he’d thought about it, he would’ve expected it.

He wouldn’t have expected James to then push off the wall and start walking towards him, though.

“Hey Reg,” He said once he was close enough to be heard over the music blasting around them. God, he looked so full of himself. Disgustingly pleased. It made Regulus’ blood burn.

“Potter,” Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t take that tone with me after I caught you staring.” James wasn’t that much taller than Regulus, but the handful of inches between them meant he looked down at him when they spoke. It definitely did not make Regulus’ stomach flood with butterflies.

“I was simply astounded by your ridiculous attire. I don’t quite know what you were going for there, but it’s a bit of a train wreck.”

“Y’know it’s useless lying to me, baby. It’s written all over your face what you’re really thinking.” God, his voice was good. Deeper than usual, and thick and sweet as syrup. Did he just call him baby?

“And what exactly, would you say, I’m thinking?” Regulus narrowed his eyes, staring directly into James’ own.

James' free hand lifted to rest lightly on Regulus’ hip, just grazing the side of his waist. He tried to hide the way he sucked in a breath, but James’ grin told him he was unsuccessful.

“Similar to what I am, surely.”

Regulus swallowed hard. He wouldn’t give in this easily. “What would Sirius think about you touching his little brother like this, hm?”

James just exhaled a laugh. “Sirius isn’t here right now.” His grip tightened slightly as he leaned forward to murmur only inches away from his face and Regulus couldn’t resist how his eyes snapped down to watch how muscles both covered and uncovered by his shirt shifted. “Don’t change the subject.”

Alright, maybe Regulus would give in that easily.

He swayed forward, suddenly, hands moving up to cup his face and pulling him into a kiss. James’ lips reacted quickly, moving against his own, and his arm shifted around his waist to place his palm on his back. James’ tongue slid against Regulus’ lips and he opened them without hesitation, groaning into his mouth as they hurried to escalate. The sound seemed to spur James on some more, and he started walking them both away, speaking words at a time between devouring Regulus’ mouth with his own. “C’mon, baby, the- fuck- bathroom, this way.”

Normally, Regulus would've challenged his assumption he’d follow him into the bathroom, but this time he only nodded quickly and let James lead him away. Barty was right, he was acting like some common fucking whore. At this rate, if they hadn’t moved into the bathroom, James pushing him against the wall as soon as they were in, they really would’ve been at risk of trouble for public indecency.

As James' mouth left his, moving to trail hot kisses down his body as Regulus writhed above him, all he managed to get out between quiet gasps and moans was “Whatever you do, just, keep- ah-, the shirt, on.”

#IM NOT LATE #I AM JUST ON THE EDGE #this is so dumb n i had less than 2h to write it but i couldnt not #microfish tag #croptopjamesfest #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #marauders #fanfiction #jegulus microfic

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themadlu · 3 months

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Do Not Open That Door

Astarion is sure his leader's unflinching morals will lead him to another unwanted grave. He is also sure she is putting on an act because people like her do not exist, clearly. He decides to test his assumptions.

TW: None I think

WC: ~3000 words

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird for the encouragement!

Astarion is livid. Well, maybe livid was an overstatement—he is annoyed. Annoyed and confused. Such feelings are still a vast improvement over the fear and shame he's been accustomed to, but they make him restless nonetheless.

Especially because their cause is walking steadily next to him without a care in the world for his inner turmoil.

Zélie, their oh so great leader, has managed to spoil what could have been a perfectly enjoyable afternoon on multiple fronts. First, she decides to talk to the goblins ambushing them instead of treating them like the savages they are.

(“We don’t know how many of them are in this village Astarion. What if there’s a little army and we’re outnumbered?”)

After confirmation that there were, in fact, quite a few goblins (and a couple orcs to boot), she managed to get free passage through the village by leveraging their wriggly alien parasite. He isn’t happy about it. Not at all.

He has to begrudgingly admit hers was a wise call after witnessing just how large and hungry those orcs were. And of course they even agree to help a fellow true soul in need. Just what he needs to undermine what little influence he has on her.

(Her blood is in his body after all.)

In the last tendays she had made it her mission to remind him how despicable murder is, under most circumstances, aside from self-defence. This beautifully idiotic mindset of hers almost got her killed twice in front of his very eyes.

(She doesn’t know he has taken to finish off the enemies she leaves unconscious while she isn’t watching.)

When he had pointed out the suicidal flaw in her morals, she had given him her signature scolding look, crossed her arms, and started breathing in that funny way of hers.

In, hold, out.

(She says she is not trained as a monk, but he’ll be even more damned than he already is if that is true. The way she fights and holds herself—and those sickening ideals she has—tell a different story.)

“Honestly, darling,” he hisses at her as they walk through the village, squinty eyes trained on their every move. “I thought we agreed that benevolence and honour,” he spits the words out like a curse, “get you nowhere but to an early grave.”

“Astarion,” she always says his name when she speaks to him—even in annoyance— and he hates his constant surprise at hearing it. His elven name had been replaced with other titles over time, more befitting of his status—boy, spawn, whore, slut, beautiful, toy, love…

Truly, it’s a small miracle he managed to hold on to his name. It’s one of the few things left that are truly his, yet hearing it spoken from that solemn woman's lips makes something in his chest preen.

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that front. No, don’t give me that look. Killing someone is never justifiable. No matter what we tell ourselves, we are taking away something that wasn’t ours to begin with. Something irreplaceable. Even—” she held up her hand as he started to complain, “in self-defence, even then, I will make sure to exhaust all alternatives, and even then, it will be a failure on my part.”

You moron.

“Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t think like you, darling,” he snapped. Hers was an act. There was no way in the hells anyone could survive to their…whatever age she was, he was never good with human lifespans, with that mindset. It was ridiculous, because if she actually was like that—if two–hundred years of shit didn’t teach him better—she should either be dead in a ditch or have ascended to godhood on her saintly behaviour alone. The only explanation he has for her standing close to him is that the mask she wears is as fake as his own. That, or she is a child of Ilmater. He bets on the former, given her complete ignorance of any deity on Toril.

“But you lied,” he counters, snapping his fingers. “You said we are here on Absolute business. Doesn’t that go against your precious code of honour?” he singsongs in her ear.

“I didn’t lie. My tadpole reacted to theirs, and they drew their own conclusions. Technically, we are going to their camp on Absolute business too, if you count removing these,” she tapped her index to her temple.

He smirks, victorious. “Circumstantial. One day, the tadpole won’t do the work for us and you’ll break your own code or doom us to death. For one, I’d rather not repeat the experience,” he says in a quiet voice, pointing at his chest.

Their companions are still unaware of his condition—another occasion his holy leader conveniently withheld information.

(“It’s your secret, it’s your decision.” Hypocrite.)

“Astarion, I know you take me for a fool, and I would normally pay more respect to a man—elf—my senior by centuries, but really. I can be practical and have a moral compass, and that means that when the choice is between lying and killing, I will pick lying any day, even if I don’t like it.”

Enough.

Her words incense him, annoyance suddenly turns into rage and something else—what’s that, envy?—he pivots on his left heel and closes the distance between them so fast she has no time to react. Zélie is left pinned to the wall, their bodies a breath away from touching, and he internally celebrates the surprised look on her face.

He stares at her down his nose, ducking his head and planting a slender hand on the wall beside her head.

Astarion has to make her stop before he tears her self-righteousness out of her throat. Before she realises how useless it all is—how useless and tainted he is—and either stakes him or banishes him. Because even her sickly, do-gooding self, fake or real it be, must have limits. If he pushes hard enough, they’ll crumble, and then he’ll be proven right. She is not what she says she is because creatures like that aren’t real.

“Let’s make one thing clear, darling,” he growls, nostrils flaring, “you may be our great leader, but you should get off your high horse before someone shoots you off it. I don’t know what perfect little corner of the universe you grew up in, but you know nothing of this world and its dangers.”

He flashes his fangs at her to drive his point across. The others are out of sight, looking for supplies in some ruin or cellar. Gods, he misses the city.

Zélie is staring back at him, bristling, but lets him continue. She never interrupts any of them, not even him.

“I thought humans were all about developing and living fast, but you, my dear, are as ignorant as a babe. I am trying to make sure we keep our collective hides safe and do not get sidetracked by other pitiful creatures on our path.”

He realises just how close he is to her when she straightens up again and their noses almost touch.

Pale eyes go darker with a flash of anger.

There. Come at me. Prove me right.

“Spoken like a true man of the law, lord magistrate.”

Why the hells is her tone so collected when she has a literal vampire at her throat?!

“You seem forgetful, so I’ll remind you that it was my ignorance that stopped Shadowheart from connecting her mace with your head. And it was my stupidity that convinced her you could join us, and that we should give you a chance at trust.”

She makes no move to get closer, but he recoils as if scorched by fire.

“And it is the same trust I placed in you yesterday when I let you bite me, even though it’s not how I envisioned a night of rest to go. I trusted you to stop, I trusted you to keep your word and not leave me a corpse.”

There it is. Reminding him of what he owes her. Of his debts. They say the quiet ones are the most depraved, and she is the strong and silent type. But he is nothing if not an expert in the art of subservience at this point, and if it gets her to keep giving him blood and protection—

“I trust you.”

Then you’re doomed.

She says it as if it were a challenge. Her gaze is unwavering and he is left speechless yet again. Cazador would admire this quality of hers.

“I hope you can trust me in return.”

Impossible woman.

“Well, I suppose you’re not wholly incompetent,” he manages to croak out. His nonchalant mask is harder to slip on this time.

She huffs a breath of a laugh, a tiny thing, but it’s enough to transform her whole face. The weight she carries on her deceivingly flimsy shoulders seems to lift, leaving behind a young woman smiling softly at a…well, a monster. Talk about inexperience.

Happiness suits you, little leader.

The fact it’s his prattling that caused this marvel of a transformation stokes something in chest and in the pit of his stomach that he promptly pushes down.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Zélie says. She moves away and he is left staring at the crusty wall. Her body never touched his own during their exchange.

Wait. That’s wrong. He was meant to make her see the reason in his ways, not the other way around. So why is he at her heels like a lost puppy the minute she walks away?

(“You are nothing by yourself boy. You owe everything to me.”)

He is weak. So weak he has leashed himself to a human who can barely read common, fuck's sake.

His temper rises again once he catches up with Zélie. He doesn’t need her condescension, nor her chiding (she doesn’t even know his full story yet, nor she ever will unless absolutely necessary, so pity isn’t there yet). He’ll show the wretched woman how wrong she is.

Karlach and Lae’zel jog behind them as they reach a barn with a door locked shut. Zélie thinks nothing of it at first, but Astarion can smell what’s inside.

(His senses born anew from her blood.)

He smells the ogre and bugbear and their horrid affair before the rest of his companions hear the grunts and noises.

“Oh God, someone’s fighting!” exclaims Zélie.

Fighting, you say?

An idea strikes him.

See what your misplaced goodness gets you when you try to help an ogre.

“I don’t know soldier, they don’t sound like fight noises to me,” says Karlach leaning towards the barn, but even she seems unsure. Astarion’s talents may be limited to a specific area, but in this case it works in his favour. He is very familiar with what those sounds mean. The half-ogres that fucked him into the bed so hard he bled were not so different.

(He still remembers how much it hurt, how he was left in a puddle of mixed releases, sweat, and what little blood he had).

“Well, even if they are fighting, it is clearly not our problem. I say we leave them to it and focus on what’s really important,” he says, using his annoyance as a hook. Zélie may be the most restrained person he’s come across, but he knows how to read people, and he knows she will do the opposite of whatever he says when it concerns morals.

She falls for it. His smile is harder to suppress.

“Astarion! We’ve just talked about this!”

Her voice raises a bit, but it’s almost eclipsed by another loud grunt from inside the barn.

“So long as my blade can be sharpened on my enemies’ bones, I am ready.” Lae’zel is almost as ignorant as Zélie when it comes to their world, which is usually a hindrance, but now it’s the push their little leader needs to run to the rescue.

Zélie tries to open the barn door (after cutting another withering look at the vampire lazily strolling at her back), finding it jammed.

The crescendo of grunts and bangs coming from inside is extremely loud now.

Gods, they must be disgusting.

“Hello?! Help is on the way, hang on!” the little human shouts as she frantically tries to get the door unstuck.

“Oh hells, let me do it, darling, before we turn into tentacled freaks,” Astarion says in mock-annoyance. She eyes him suspiciously and he shoots her a winning smile. His nimble hands make quick work of the lock, and he pushes the door open.

He needs just a peek to know his assumption about what was happening in the barn is correct, and turns to face his now horror-stricken companion.

“Gods, they are disgusting,” he comments with his lips crooked in a satisfied smile.

Zélie scrambles to compose herself and turns her back from the scene (the prudish) as she fails to find words to explain herself. “I—I am, I apologise, we thought—”

Oh, she’s in a state. Her cheeks flush redder than rubies (he can practically hear her delicious blood pooling there), whilst the rest of her is paler than after Astarion’s feeding. She opens and shuts her eyes as if trying to physically erase what she just witnessed.

The bugbear slides his now soft cock out of the ogre, and looks at them in rage.

“W–what the hells are you doing?!”

Oh, Astarion is thrilled. He doesn’t remember when last had such fun. He hears Lae’zel’s tsk’ and Karlach’s gags behind him, and he closely watches Zélie fumbling as he didn’t think was possible.

“Apologies! I, you—you were making a lot of noise and I, we, thought you needed help,” she holds her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “I apologise for the intrusion! We’ll leave now—”

“Ruined! SMASH. I’ll smash you!”

Oh. Astarion didn’t expect that. He just wanted to show Zélie how ungrateful the world is to idiots like her, not have her turn into orc food.

Before he can think, he is tackling the woman to the ground, the orc’s club crashing a few spaces to his left. Karlach and Lae’zel’s throw themselves at the aggressor, and the fight starts in earnest. Astarion is more a stalker than a fighter, but he had his first fill of human blood only hours before, and his senses have never been that sharp, so he doesn’t miss the bugbear rushing towards their prone form.

Daggers at hand, he braces to parry the onslaught (this may hurt) when his worldview shifts, his back in on the ground, and chilly afternoon air replaces the heat of his leader on his chest.

What just happened?

He turns his head to see the bugbear crashing to the ground, Zélie crouched on one leg and tripping him with her other. “Go help the others! I’ve got this!” she shouts, as she wraps her limbs around the assailant in a tight bind. “Wait! It was an honest mistake—”

He doesn’t want to hear her voice now. Doesn’t want to think how the little moron literally threw him away from danger. Even worse, he will refute the idea he protected her from an angry orc till his last breath. He only got his body back recently. That’s it. He still is unsure of how to use it.

And she's dinner.

He doesn’t want to dwell on what happened, so he nods and throws himself at the female orc while she is distracted by his companions.

The fight doesn’t last too long after that, and something takes a hold of his insides when he looks at Zélie. She is silent, staring at the large corpse on the ground, bugbear knocked out at her feet.

“Darling?” He moves towards her and the sadness in her eyes almost makes him apologise. Gods, what has he done? He didn’t think this was going to happen. And why does he care?! This was his intent, this and seeing the real her behind the strong, polite facade.

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know, darling. I—”

See now, how impossible it is to keep your ideals in this world?

“You knew,” she says, and while he words his excuses (the only real one being he didn’t think they were going to be attacked) her shoulders drop and a defeated huff leaves her mouth. A far cry from her happy smile earlier.

Astarion can’t wrap his head around how he caused both reactions in such a short span of time. But this look on her, this, he knows. He has seen far worse in the eyes and screams of those fools he lured back to his master, once they had his way with him and realised a bit too late they were as trapped as he was.

He expects her to shout, to berate him, kick him, punch him, stab him, banish him—but none of that comes. Zélie studies him intently, and something in her demeanour lights up, an internal judgement made.

“I still trust you.”

No. No no no, he’s not going to let her fool him into believing this—no!

Her face is suddenly level with Astarion’s knees, the now-awake bugbear readying a strike.

Astarion doesn’t need to think—he falls forward and sinks his dagger into the wretch’s neck. Blood spurts out, but after tasting Zélie’s Astarion has no interest in it; mud compared to a clear sky.

“Soldier!” shouts Karlach, ever the helpful friend. Zélie pants as the dead attacker slides off of her, eye to eye with Astarion again. He can feel her light breath on his face. Karlach pulls her up; he is cleaning his dagger on the bugbear’s clothes when an outstretched hand enters his vision. Hers.

“Come on,” she says, tired but steady again. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Astarion flinches from the hand as if it were a trap (it is always a trap), but Zélie is new territory for him, that much he begrudgingly accepts. She is apparently above the rules of their miserable world because she chooses to trust him, a vampire, a lying one, again.

He takes her hand, bracing for what may come his way, but she just helps him up.

“Thank you, by the way. For saving my life before.”

It’s a trick. It’s a trick. Don’t fall for—

She wraps her hand around his so delicately he thinks he may break, and shakes it. His thoughts and words are silenced yet again.

“Thank you.”

Fuck.

#bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #oc: zélie #tav oc #astarion #astarion fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #human tav #I still feel bad for the orc and bugbear

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journeyman-tier-fibercraft · 4 months

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Been busy enough to justify a full round up for this WIP Wednesday. The TL;DR being that I'm back to being fully lace brained.

Blanket 10 is NEARLY finished. I've started attaching the last row and just need to finish out this row and then do a border (and give him a good wash, I've owned some of this yarn for years and it smells a little dusty). The nights are starting to get really cold here so I'll be happy to have it done, I just gotta force myself to work on it.

Doily 14 (Yarn | Pattern) needs to go on a longer needle but other than that is very fun and cute. I've decided to put it down for a bit to work on the next two projects but I expect when they get boring I'll go back to this. This pattern is surprisingly simple for a Neibling as long as you're prepared for the long pattern rows. Absolutely going to have to break out the washi tape to mark off my rows for the second chart, but the first one has been very easy lace knitting.

Unnamed project aka me fucking around to see if I can freehand this sweater design. I had started with a two row lace ("Honeycomb lace" from A Second Treasury of Knitting Patterns by Barbara G Walker) but honestly didn't find it fun to knit. So I transitioned to a favourite of mine (ssk, k2tog, yo twice). It's going a lot faster now tho it looks a little weird. I'm going to knit to the underarm and if it fits, it stays. If it's too small I'll rip all the way back and redo the shaping in this lace pattern instead with longer shoulder saddles. It's unfortunate that I didn't like knitting the honeycomb lace, I really like how it looks, I'll have to try swatching it in different yarns to see if the problem is just that this yarn has zero stretch (100% cotton).

I have decided I will put short sleeves on this tho. I had planned to just add ribbing for the arms but I saw a drop shoulder vest in a similar style and did Not like it, so this just saves me from having to rip back. I also think I'm going to have to leave this cropped, I'm not a big crop top person but with this yarn being cotton, having a full length body along with the sleeves is going to have the neckline very stretched. There may be no helping it regardless but there's no harm in trying. I imagine if this is does become something I wear it'll either be in the dead of summer or layered over a button up/some sort of top anyway, so a crop wouldn't be too uncomfortable.

Last but certainly not least is Shawl 14 (Pattern | Yarn). My precious Evenstar is coming along very well, I'm actually on the second to last pattern row before the set up for the border. I know the border is going to be a slog but I'm excited for it regardless, he's huge even all compressed on the needles. My self imposed deadline for him is April, but the border is only 56 repeats. If I can do one every other day I should be right on time, which sounds do-able even tho I know I'll get bored by the halfway point.

I need to keep an eye out for patterns for this yarn, I have a whole second cone plus what'll be left after I finish this shawl. These cones staring at me will probably be the push I need to settle on an Orenburg shawl pattern. (Or possibly a large Neibling, or one of MMario's patterns.)

#knitting #knitblr #lace rot #wip #wip wednesday #project: blanket 10 #project: shawl 14 #project: doily 14 #i haven't really touched shawl 15 so i didn't feel it necessary to include him (also it took me an hour to write up this much anyway)#i'm procrastinating from working on blanket 10 lmao it just makes me so eepy. heavy and warm blanket = nap time.#I gotta find something interesting to listen to while crochet it. I watched Astroid City with my dad and tried to work on it #but got so distracted by the visuals I made like 1 dc every other minute.#also my new cellphone camera is fucking awesome in comparison to my old one holy shit #it's like i just put my glasses on except they're not scratched up for once

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frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers · 5 months

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Frozen nods/ Easter eggs in Wish

Now I had to make this post because initially many people thought it was the new Frozen but it's nothing like Frozen in its own good way. But I wanted to point out a few things that I thought were inspiration from Frozen. And that's given because Jennifer Lee is part of this movie too.

Note : This is not meant for comparison as to which is better as people have different opinions nor is it a who is better in characters either. Take this as Frozen Easter eggs if you must.

Queen Elsa and Queen Amaya

The thing I noticed is the similarities between Elsa's main icy blue iconic dress (In Frozen and the end of Frozen 2) and Amaya's gown and their personalities too. Queen Amaya is portrayed with a long braid, an off the shoulder dress with a layered middle slit on the skirt, a triangular or pointed waistline and two long see through capes and not too mention the pointed ends of the sleeves. Plus both are Queens. The skirt also has an upwards pointed design like Elsa's fifth spirit gown. Now I'm not saying this is a bad thing but just that it was clear Elsa was her inspiration for her character. She also has similar poses to Elsa as seen below and her personality is calm and modest as a Queen. If Frozen kept Elsa's fifth spirit necklace from the concept art then that'd be another similarity with both of them wearing necklaces/ pendants.

Amaya's design is honestly a very beautiful design and really gets me just excited for what Elsa's attire will be for Frozen 3 and 4. I'm just in awe of the dress structure too. I'm currently working on possibilities for that with Elsa's most iconic dress and her fifth spirit dress combining to one.

Hans and Simon

The other thing that I thought could be a nod and tease was to Hans with Simon. In my Wish review (previous post) I mention the good and bad sides to Simon's...

Spoilers below!!

... betrayal. In Wish, Simon betrays his friends and hands in Asha then the other friends. His friends call him a betrayer (I think it was). Then at the end after Magnifico is defeated, Simon apologizes to Asha. It was kind of a twist but I kinda saw it coming from the beginning and honestly not as good as Hans' twist despite him being the real villain of the movie and Simon not. In Frozen 2, everyone basically calls Hans a betrayer after he betrays the kingdom and Anna. But why I think this may be a possible hint of Hans' redemption in the upcoming Frozen movies, is because Simon apologizes too. Before I expand on that Simon does look like Hans with the shade of red hair too. But I know Hans won't be redeemed in the same way if he returns but I'm just saying it's possible that it's a hint by Jennifer (I know Hans fans would like to disagree but hear me out please) because I'm sure she has a sense of the story at the time of writing this.

I don't think it's right to compare Hans with Magnifico because they're nothing alike. Magnifico is self centered and loves power, in the magical and throne sense. Though Hans' movies appear as stealing the throne, if we read is backstory in 'A Frozen Heart' book, with the abuse by his brothers and father with no love or place it's kind of justifiable. Hans isn't self centered and wants the best for Arendelle even if it means killing Elsa to end this winter. Magnifico is a villain villain. Hans' has potential for redemption.

I know it's crazy but speaking of crazy...

“I/ We love crazy”

There's also a nod to Hans' “I love crazy” quote with Asha saying that talking animals and nature is crazy to which the talking mushrooms reply “We love crazy”. I loved it.

Just follow the string

Also I guess you could say, or at least I take the red string used by Star as a nod to Frozen Fever with Elsa using a red string to guide Anna to her birthday tour of presents around the castle and kingdom for Anna.

Valentino/ Star and Sven/ Olaf

With Valentino being the goat pet and Star being the magical creation born, it reminds me of Sven and Olaf. Valentino has a mischievous... I guess you could say.. personality and has a low/ deep voice. Sven doesn't talk but Kristoff makes his own voice deeper and humorous to do so. Star is a magical creation born out of a wish Asha, the protagonist, makes. He also has a humourous touch to him and a bit of nativity to him given he was just born. Olaf is the snowman Elsa, one of the protagonists, creates out of a subconscious desire to want to be free with her powers and feelings to create a snowman. Like Star he is funny, cute and is naïve at times. Not to mention both duos are chaotic and fun together and are males.

If I've missed any please do let me know and I'll edit it here! Hope you enjoyed Wish if you've watched it and enjoy Frozen's upcoming 10th anniversary while looking forward to Frozen 3 and 4!

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mylovescara · 1 year

Text

Obey me

chubby mc headcanons

{ belphie,beel,lucifer }

Gn mc!

Sfw!!

Cw:mention of knee high socks,mainly fluff but a little suggestive

——————————————————————————

Belphie

belphie absolutely adores you and your chubby thighs and stomach!

He can’t help but think about sleeping on ur thighs. You allowing him to lay his head down and take a nap one you or him in between your thighs hand around your waist laying his head down on your stomach he can only dream

But eventually when you start dating him and you give him the ok to lie down and your stomach and thighs he falls asleep in no time!

Whenever your having bad days and feeling self conscious about your body just go to belphie and he’ll give you all the praise and compliments in the world he’ll even justify them to giving you a reason to why that part of you is so beautiful followed by a sweet kiss to whatever part of you body your feeling insecure about

And whenever he’s feeling bad sick or just is having trouble falling asleep he’s come to find you to cuddle with so he can feel better

He gives you a sweet kiss to ur forehead before shuffling into position to sleep on ur stomach

“I love this part of you so stop feeling insecure your the best pillow ever people who think otherwise are just jealous ”

He says these words with a kind smile while finshing off with a small chuckle

In return you give him a soft smile and you guys both drif off to sleep

Beelzebub

He loves you so much! (I head canon he personally loves people with a lil bit a chubbyness)

he loves when your wearing ur skimpy pjs shorts with half of your ass hanging out he can’t help but stare at it especially when he’s eating he claims it makes his food taste better while looking at your body

He loves when u allow him to lay his head down on your stomach and eat some snacks at the same time (you don’t kno how he doesn’t choke but whatevs)

If any one even says one bad thing about your body he’s ready to go give that lesser demon pain that they’ve never felt before

Right after he’s done dealing with that lesser demon he comes back to you and ask if your ok while carrying you bridle style and no matter if you say that you didn’t care or you did he will still shower you with compliments for the whole rest of the day

Anytime you hug or cuddle his hand while alway be around your waist pulling you closer kissing you

He loves squishing your thighs as well not even in a sexual way just in a way that he find it cute and fun to tease you when he does it

“I love your thighs their so squishy anyways come eat with me”

“Oh you don’t feel like eating are you full? You haven’t eat in the last 4 hrs tho if it cause of what them lesser demons said about you don’t worry I love your body and that all that matters right?”

He pulls you into a kiss which tell you he loves you When he pulls away from the kiss he picks you up and throws him across his back playfully and takes you guys to eat dinner with smiles on both of your faces

Lucifer

At first he never thought anything of you he just thought of you as another weak human who most likely didn’t know how to defend themselves

But then the more you stayed with him and his brothers the more you grew on him

He couldn’t help it!! This guy was deep In love for you although his pride wouldn’t let him admit it he was head is over heals!! He loves the way ur cute chubby cheeks would bounce as you ran off realising you were late for class

And the way ur knee high socks would go so well with ur chubby thighs

He just can get enough!!

He honestly thinks ur the cutest he can’t get enough he wants to hold you in his arms till the end of time and squish ur cheeks forever. Whenever ur near him he can’t help but think about how cute you look

And he’s even sweeter when you come to him explaining you’ve had a bad day that some lesser low rank demons have been bothering you since morning Talking about you as if you weren’t right next to them

After your done telling him what’s happened he goes feral but does his best to hide it from you I mean who would dare talk about his darling like that the audacity

“Darling do you mind telling me these demons names?”

“Never mind that come sit on my lap and I’ll prove to you ur much prettier then any other person in all of the 3 realms”

Lucifer cuddle ur as you relaxed on to him leaning ur head on his shoulder while he praised you and talk bad about those shitty lesser demons

Needless to say u heard some screams echoing somewhere near ur classroom the next day

——————————————————————————

Hello guys 🤭🤭

I was really busy with hw my school makes us do 20 assignments a week😭😭 but that is the reason while it took my over 2 weeks to post again anyways I might make my next post soon idk but stay well guys and take care 🫶🏽🫶🏽

♡

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me belphie #obey me beelzebub #gender nuetral reader #chubby reader #chubby mc

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montrealmadison · 2 months

Note

olliewicks and 37 !!

abby, it’s only appropriate that i write these two for the very first time for you. ❤️

37. olliewicks + Anything You Want (Not That) by Belleruche for @zimms

Forgive the doe eyed relentless attention If it's on, I'm on, and there's no more use in pretending Close to the chase, it's clear you've had fun playing Some liberties, well you've surely been taking

Halfway through December, with the night becoming morning and the tub juice lighting him on fire, Oliver O’Meara thinks he’s having a pretty good freshman year.

Or—frog year. Right. New team, new lingo; he knows how this goes. The guys here call him Ollie, same as they have everywhere else. The ice at Faber is bigger, better kept, but his skates dig into it just the same. He goes to class (most of the time), hits up the kegsters, tries his best to get in with the upperclassmen, successfully makes one entire friend.

He’s a simple guy. Doesn’t expect much.

So the fact that something is starting to feel different is rubbing him the wrong way.

read more below or on ao3 | request a fic here

The Haus is high off the win—literally, Ollie thinks, watching smoke drift past him out the open front door. They destroyed BC tonight, four-nothing, and Jack only shouted at them twice, which at this point honestly passes for kindness where he's concerned. Shitty has been incandescent with joy since they hit the showers. He’s dragged every member of the team into at least two keg stands with his own set of complicated strip rules and is now down to nothing but one sock and a giant smile, which was the final warning that prompted Ollie to move to the porch. The parties here are way better than in high school, he has to admit, but only in small doses.

Salt crunches beneath him when he sits down on the steps. It’s cold out. Not as bad as it is at home this time of year, but not warm enough to justify him sitting outside in shorts and a hoodie, sweat chilling quickly in his hair and his breath smoking out in long billows. He half-expects someone to come outside and yell at him to put a coat on, but no one does. To fill the silence, he takes another sip of tub juice, lets it torch his throat all the way down.

Maybe everybody feels like this freshman year: unmoored, self-conscious, either too loud or too quiet. It’s not bad, it’s just—different. Not having his brothers around. Playing hockey that really means something. Making friends on purpose, not just because they’re the only ones available. Going to parties where people sort of know you, where they call your name; where your teammates smile and smell like cinnamon and weed and have nice asses and ex-boyfriends; where that’s okay, it’s all okay.

Maybe, if he’s feeling like this on a night when he’s supposed to be happy, he shouldn’t be drinking alone. He’s about to pound the rest of his cup and risk going back in for a refill when someone knees him in the back.

“Ow,” Ollie says, which is a great first thing to say when you’re potentially going to have to kick someone’s ass. “Bro, what the fuck.”

He turns around, ready to defend himself, but it’s only Wicky, carrying two Keystones with the tabs already popped.

“‘Sup,” he says, grinning like he didn’t just commit an act of warfare, and hands one over. The can’s cold, as are Wicky’s fingers when they touch. “You’re thinking loud. Want a buddy?”

“Yeah,” Ollie agrees, more out of surprise than anything else. He takes a sip and finds that even watery beer is a welcome change from warm Everclear and foot stank. He tosses the rest of the tub juice into the bushes in a wide arc, sends his cup tumbling after it. “Thanks.”

Wicky sinks down beside him, close enough to throw off heat but not enough to touch. He’s in sweats and a beanie, dirty old Vans, that half a smile he always wears. Ollie’s not used to feeling like it’s directed at him and kind of waits to feel uncomfortable about it, but he never does. Beyond their little sliver of porch, it’s starting to snow.

“Good fucking game,” Wicky says after a long minute, throwing a shoulder in Ollie’s direction. His inflection is familiar, round and Midwestern, and reminds Ollie so much of home that it almost softens the blow. “Tired of cellying your assist?”

“Tired of Holster kicking my ass at pong,” he retorts. Wicky laughs and dodges the elbow Ollie aims his way. “Didn’t see you rushing to my defense, man, I had to play with Hardy and he’s about as useful as—”

“Nah, nah, I didn’t mean to laugh at you.” It’s sincere. “I got you next time, sorry. Got distracted.”

“What could be more important than riding to my rescue?”

“Key lime pie?”

“Ah.”

Ollie elbows him one more time, just for good measure and because Wicky claims not to have saved him any, before they drink their beers and watch the street turn white and he goes back to thinking.

Maybe it’s Wicky who’s different. Not in the way that Bitty is different, like nothing this team has ever seen, like the kind of person who merits special coaching with Jack by day and stands on the arm of the sticky green couch to deliver an impassioned performance of some Kesha song by night. No, the thing about Wicky is that he’s… bright. He puts his head down in practice and works the same as Ollie does, doesn’t ask many questions or draw attention to himself. They go to the dining hall and practice and the library together; mundane shit. Somehow, Ollie can’t stop noticing him anyway.

“You good, dude?”

Wicky’s voice is low, but Ollie’s so tuned into him in his head that it sounds loud. He turns, tipsy and slow, and finds Wicky still wearing that smile.

Oh, shit, Ollie thinks, hoping the cold and the beer serve as cover for the flush that immediately crawls up his cheeks. Oh, fuck.

Because here is the goddamn thing.

Oliver O’Meara is having a pretty good freshman year, but that’s all he ever expected it to be. Go to school, play hockey, have a little fun. Look, he gets that maybe there’s something in the water here that lets Shitty hug the Jack Zimmermann on the daily without getting both his arms ripped off, or facilitates the freaky mind-meld between Ransom and Holster, or enables Bitty to get on the ice with them at all. But Ollie’s never felt like a main character, not even in his own story. Everyone else probably has better reasons for coming to Samwell, life-changing ones. Ollie feels a little like he just ended up here because of some force of nature greater than him, like the broad strokes of his life have been sketched out and the details have all been left for him to make up.

Wicky is the only person who’s ever made him wonder how it would feel if, maybe, he could be different here, too.

“Ollie,” Wicky says, now sounding distinctly amused. “Earth to O’Meara. You wanna get out of here, brah? Not having fun?”

He’s pretty sure that get out of here isn’t intended that way, not yet, but it could—oh, God, it could.

“No, I’m good,” Ollie says, feeling everything and nothing like himself. He stands, feels his knees ache with the effort of the day, knows he isn’t done quite yet. He sticks out a hand. “One more song and then late night?”

Wicky’s at his feet now, trusting eyes and curling hair, a face Ollie’s only just started to get to know but somehow thinks he won’t ever forget. He takes Ollie’s hand and pulls himself to his feet, but he doesn’t let go right away. Ollie kind of loves that. “One more, huh? Only if you’re gonna dance.”

“Deal.”

“‘Swawesome,” says Wicky. It sounds like a promise.

(Inside, on the dance floor, when that same hand wraps warm around the back of Ollie's neck like a question and an answer all at once, it feels like one, too.)

The next weekend, they win again. Ollie’s on the ice when Ransom wrists in the last goal and everyone shouts, and when they all pile in for the celly, Ollie finds Wicky’s bright blue eyes (oh, shit) and winks, and Wicky reaches up with one gloved hand and catches it like a kiss.

Alright, Ollie thinks. Game on.

#ollie o'meara #pacer wicks #olliewicks #omgcp #omg check please #omgcheckplease #my writing #efickegster 2024 #abby tag #abby thank you for this request it was super super fun ❤️#I love writing them who knew!!

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dire-kumori · 10 months

Note

I'm glad you liked my last idea- I had another idea (I am also very scattered brained and just come up with like 16 new ideas for random au I find on the internet) We're after like I'm gonna say 80 time loops where Michael is like fully devolved into the reaper He decides not just to kill his younger self this time... He only plans on doing it once just one little piece of revenge.. And he knows it will hurt his younger self too so it's like a double win...

Basically he sneaks into the Afton house at night and kidnaps Elizabeth.. Then he takes her to wear sister location would be built.. He knows that Michael saw him and is probably going to follow him in an attempt to save Elizabeth he's planning on it.... Elizabeth is like freaking out and reaper Mike Is trying to justify... Hes got her tied up to a tree and everything

Reaper Michael: I know it's my fault you became that thing.. If I had watched if I had come sooner I could have saved you.. *Touches her hair Elizabeth squirms away*

Elizabeth: When my dad and brothers find you they're gonna make you pay you're a bad man!! (She is trying really hard to act brave but she is terrified)

Reaper Michael: I know.. cause I care about Elizabeth.. I've always cared about you're my little sister for God damn sake... And I know that somewhere in that horrible twisted mass of metal and plastic you cared about me too.. But you still killed me you wore me like some kind of dress up..

*Elizabeth suddenly realized that this thing somehow is Michael screams and wiggles against her restraints. Younger Michael hears it and rides his bike towards the scream*

Ripper Michael: I honestly should thank you Elizabeth you showed me that no matter how much I tried to hide it all I am is a dirty rotten creature and all I can do is hurt people... But you still killed me and it hurt so so much.. And one death won't mean anything in the greater scheme.. (Man has gone full monster He knows what hes doing is terrible and hes not actually helping anyone it's more just cathartis)

*Elizabeth not really understanding what he means by everything... But understanding that somehow she did this to him.. She is so terrified she wants to just start crying there not only because of the monster in front of her but because this monster is her brother and she made him like this for some reason...*

Elizabeth: What happened to you Michael? what did I do what's going on? I'm so sorry?

Reaper Michael: That's what I said to you... *Michael thinks back to the scooping room* Want to know what you said?

*Younger Michael is in the clearing with a baseball bat*

Reaper Michael: The scooper only hurts for a second.. (Quickly kills Elizabeth I don't know how he just does-)

Then he probably makes a quick work of Younger Michael before it starts all over again..

Sorry I couldn't stop thinking about this since you said earlier hes only doing This to deal with his own feelings of self-hatred. It's kind of Marinate in it.. I thought it would be interesting if in one loop he kills Elizabeth It's like hes gone fully off of the deep end at this point and doesn't really have a way to justify what hes doing anymore- And even though he does blame himself for what happened to Elizabeth he still hates that she did it to him.. Sorry for how long this ISL OLI hope you like it!!

This is pure evil and I am absolutely living for it!

Reaper Mike has fully gone off the deep end if he's outright willing to kill his little sister. He knows that she isn't the one who killed him, but can't completely erase the pain and terror he felt when he was down there alone in the scooping room. And as a ghost possessing his own derelict corpse, those emotions he felt at the moment of his death never dull. Circus Baby and Ennard are gone but the human soul who controlled them is right there, so weak and vulnerable, unable to fight back, and it's not like it will stick, right? One he slaughters the young version of himself time will be reset and she'll be fine. It's just once, a brief momentary release...

William would be proud of how alike they are in that moment.

(Bit of gore talk ahead; par for the course with a lot of my writing but if it's upsetting to you, skip over to 'He knew.')

And young Mike is utterly broken at the sight of his sister's corpse, drenched in blood with her belly slit open, intestines hanging down to the ground with her face frozen in an agonized scream for help that never came. He knew that something dangerous was coming. He knew his family was in danger but selfishly, he only thought about saving his own skin. Why didn't he try to warn anyone? Why didn't he try harder to protect his siblings? It's his fault Elizabeth's dead, and in the face of how utterly he's failed is sister, he doesn't even put up a fight when the Reaper comes for him next.

Whether or not anyone else aside from Michael remembers any of the loops depends entirely on the author. But let's say in this case Elizabeth does remember some of it, if only as a bad dream. The next morning Elizabeth reacts to the sight of Michael with a mix of guilt and horror and actually vomits at the sight of him.

#ask #connectionterminated13 #Paradoxical Reaper AU #Michael Afton #Elizabeth Afton #child murder cw #gore cw #the irony being that he's now doing to Liz exactly what he hates himself for doing to Evan #taking out his own rage an pain on his innocent sibling #but it's different this time #she won't die #time will just reset so it doesn't count right?

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marblemoovt · 2 years

Text

I (Absolutely) Do (not) - Mondo Owada/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: None, just good ol’ fluff and angst (happy ending)

Summary:

Today's the big day. Today you're finally going to marry your fiancé.

Note:

I am currently posting a few of my old works from Wattpad onto ao3, and now tumblr! Keep in mind that most of these are probably a couple of years old. And while they might make me cringe, as old writing tends to do, I don't think I'll ever rewrite any of them due to sheer laziness. I hope you enjoy reading these tho!

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

The chime of the church bells startles you out of your thoughts. Today's the big day! Today you're finally going to marry your fiancé! After being engaged for more years than you can count, they agreed to picking a day and hosting a ceremony. The setting wasn't ideal. At first, you proposed a simple wedding with a few friends and family, but your fiancé insisted on something grander and more extravagant. So here you are, in a church, having a wedding with barely anyone you know on the guestlist --most of your friends had cancelled due to conflicting schedules.

Your fingers fidget, and it becomes increasingly difficult to not scrunch up the fabric of your wedding attire in your hands. Instead, you drum your fingers on the table in an anxious fit. A knock on your door sends a jolt through your heart, and you nearly fall off your seat. Rising from the chair, you hastily make your way to the door, hoping it's your fiance sneaking away to see you.

"How's it goin', Soon-to-be partner of F/n?" a familiar voice says, throwing your hopes into the dumpster. (F/n stands for your fiancé's name. Forgive me for the awkward term usage. It's very difficult to find a gender-neutral term for relationships/marriage.)

"Mondo?" You open the door to reveal a dressed up Mondo in his snazzy white biker outfit. He never wears those clothes unless it's a special occasion or he's kicking some ass. "You certainly look fetching today, Mondo," you snicker to yourself.

"Hey! Don't laugh at me! I was told that ya gotta wear white to a wedding," he grumbles, refusing to admit to his blunder. You stare at him, waiting for some sort of punchline, but this is Mondo we're talking about, and he rarely jokes around.

"Traditionally, wearing white is something the bride does. Not to say that other people can't wear white, but often it's the bride who has to wear white."

"Oh..."

"But honestly! You look great in white! It really, um, accentuates your manliness?" You grin and shoot him a couple of finger guns in an attempt to wipe the unamused frown that's starting to settle on his face. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"It's a miracle you're getting married, ya know that?" His words make you sputter, and you slap his shoulder half-heartedly.

"I know, I know. Someone like me settling down seems impossible-"

"No, dumbass. I'm talkin' 'bout how you're gettin' married after being engaged for so long. I thought I was gonna have to pummel some sense into that piece of shit." Mondo interrupts you to prevent any misunderstanding, flicking your forehead. You pout and ruffle his pompadour in retaliation. He clicks his tongue and tries to repair the damage while giving you a serious look. "Listen, ya gotta stop with that self depricatin' humour. It ain't funny, and it ain't true."

"It's my wedding day, and you're still going to badmouth my fiancé?" You try to steer the conversation away and ignore his last remark. He frowns at the change of subject but decides to drop it.

"I told ya since day one. I don't trust that snake. You told me that they slithered into someone else's bed while you were gone."

"That was different, Mondo! Our class was missing for two years; they thought I died!" You try to justify your fiancé's actions, choosing to believe in their love for you. Clearly, Mondo is annoyed at how blinded you are by your feelings.

"Ditch those fuckin' rose-tinted glasses, Y/n. It doesn't take a genius to see how shady it was when they asked you to marry 'em after not seein' you for two years! How long did it take for you to have this ceremony? How many times did you doubt whether you would actually get married to them?" He begins to poke holes in your beliefs. Turning your head away, you refuse to meet his eyes, not wanting to acknowledge the possibility you've been played. "Damn it, Y/n! Look at me! Look me in the fuckin' eyes and tell me that this is what you want! To get married to someone who continues to grow distant from you, who leaves you crying alone at 2 am! Cause it sure as hell ain't what I want for you."

You bite your lip, knowing that he's only trying to look out for you in his usual brash way. You hadn't noticed, but your knuckles had turned white from gripping your arms. Taking a shaky breath, you walk to the door and open it. "Please, I need to be alone right now."

"Y/n...."

"I know." He walks up to you, and you pat his arm. "I know you're only looking out for me... because I would do the same. But I really need to be alone right now, need to think for a bit and get my thoughts in order." You know how riled up the both of you get when a spat happens, so you decide it's for the best if you cool off before continuing the conversation. Mondo grimaces and nods his head.

"Well, ya better think hard. Cause there's somethin' important inside that head of yours that you're forgettin'."

"What do you mean? Is there something about my fiancé I'm supposed to recall?"

"No, it's not that. I would prefer if you forgot about the bastard entirely. Just... don't forget the celebration gift I gave ya. You did promise you'd wear it on your wedding day," he says bitterly, but he sees your confused expression and dismisses his words. "Nevermind, I'll be out near my hog if ya need me." He walks out the door, closing it behind him. The click of the door sends a wave of sadness to wash over you, leaving the room silent with only the periodic chimes of the church bells. Was this really what you wanted? Was it too much to expect your fiancé to still love you after going missing for two years? You begin to nervously chew on your nails, the glint of the engagement ring glimmering on your ring finger. Taking a brief pause, you slide the ring off your finger and stare at it intently. To disperse any feelings of doubt, you leave the room to search for your fiancé, hoping to strengthen your resolve over marriage.

Luckily for you, their dressing room is only down the hall. You quietly walk down the corridor, not wanting to attract any attention from the guests. Remembering that you also forgot your breakfast donut in their room when you were sneaking flowers for your fiancé, you make a mental note to eat it if your fiancé hasn't already found and ate it before you. You stop in front of the door. However, the door is slightly ajar. Out of curiosity, you decide to take a peek before knocking on the door, but to your horror, you see your fiancé kissing another person. Your fiancé is blocking the view of the other person, but things grow heated, and you watch as your fiancé hoists them up onto the table. You hold your breath. If they could just turn a little, you can catch a glimpse of the cheeky minx your fiancé is passionately making out with. They pull apart with giggles and lingering touches between them; it makes your heart feel queasy.

"We can't keep this up for long. The ceremony is in twenty minutes," a feminine voice says in a breathy tone. You freeze. There's something so familiar about that voice that it's unsettling.

"Darling, twenty minutes is all we need," your fiancé replies, launching an assault on the other party. Laughter erupts, and you feel your knees buckle. A strong pair of arms catch you before you hit the floor, turning you away from that horrid sight. You don't remember what happens next, only that you're picked up and carried outside to the hidden garden at the side of the church. Hands gripping the collar of a white trenchcoat, you numbly turn your head to see a familiar pompadour and those violet eyes that you've forgotten you adored.

".....Mondo?"

He turns to you, a furious expression on his face. "You saw nothin', ya got that? Wipe that disgusting memory from your mind!" His eyes soften when he notices that you're trembling. He tries to set you down on a bench, but you refuse to let him go, so he sighs and sits down with you in his arms. "Didn't I tell ya they're a real piece of shit?" You nod slowly, burying your face into his shoulder. He pats your back and says, "Look, if you wanna cry, I ain't gonna stop you. Let it all out so that we can go back inside and kick some ass."

You laugh, but your laughter turns into hiccuping, and your hiccuping turns into sobbing. Crying into his shoulder, Mondo strokes your back in comfort and waits for you to finish. "I was supposed to get married today," you sniffle.

"I know. At least you found out what kind of trash they really are."

"To think that they were cheating on me!"

"Yeah! how dare they!"

"On my wedding day!" you shout furiously.

"What a shitty person!" Mondo continues hyping you up.

"With my own mother!" you shriek.

"Ye-- wait, what?" He pauses in shock. "You're joking, right?" He looks at your tear-stained face, and his expression falls. "Oh shit, you're actually serious." Mondo ponders for a minute before mumbling, "I always knew they were a motherfucker." You gasp. Trying to laugh and a stuffy nose created the byproduct of a weird mating call that whales use. Mondo lets out a chuckle, the vibrations rumbling off his chest and sending tingles through your body.

"So much for getting married," you sigh, the disappointment clearly showing on your face.

"It's not like ya have to specifically marry them. Hell, you're sittin' on the lap of the hottest biker in the world." He tries to cheer you up, which works wonderfully as you giggle, the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile.

"You are wearing white... You can be my bride!" You chuckle, tears forming in your eyes at the thought of Mondo finding a veil big enough to cover his pompadour --or would he just cut a hole instead? Regardless, the image brought a blush to your cheeks.

"Fuck, you really have no idea what ya do to me." He gazes at you and brushes away some of your tears with his thumb. "C'mon, we got a wedding to crash and a fiancé to beat up!" He stands up, and you set your feet on the ground, taking his hand that he offered to you. You walk through the doors, and suddenly, a priest grabs your arm. You notice he's out of breath with sweat dripping down his forehead.

"Goodness me, child. Where have you been? Your fiancé and mother are worried sick. They couldn't find you anywhere. We must hurry; the ceremony is starting." The oblivious priest guides you to the grand double doors that lead to the alter. You frantically look behind you to see Mondo clenching his fists before storming outside. Disappointed, you let the priest guide you and begin walking down the aisle once the band starts playing the wedding march. You see your fiancé standing at the alter, but their eyes aren't focused on you; their eyes are focused on your mother. It feels nauseating to be the only person in the room who's aware of the adultery that was committed several minutes ago, which you don't even know when it started.

Reaching the alter, you feel relieved that you manage to maintain a neutral expression as your fiancé smiles at you and the vows are read.

"Do you, F/n, take Y/n as your wedded spouse, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

"Absolutely! I mean, I do," your fiancé stumbles, earning a few chuckles from the audience, but it left a foul taste in your mouth. The priest then reads the vows for you, and you take a deep breath before answering.

"I..." Your fiance gazes at you expectantly, but you notice their eyes shifting away from your face and glancing at the front row where your mother is seated.

"I absolutely do not!" You declare, shocking even the priest. Your mother quickly rises from her seat and tries to persuade you.

"Oh, Y/n. If it's cold feet you're having, don't worry! Marriage is great, and you love F/n." She tries to reassure you, but you brush her off.

"Why don't you marry them then! I saw you two practically fucking in the dressing room twenty minutes before the reception was supposed to start!" you shout at your mother. The crowd and even the priest gasps. Everyone is whispering amongst themselves, unsure of what's going on.

Your 'fiancé' butts in. "Now, Y/n. I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. Are you sure that's what you saw?"

"I'm sure of what I saw. But maybe I should get my vision checked because I don't even know what I saw in you in the first place!"

Your fiancé feigns hurt and continues to remain ignorant in front of the many eyes watching them. "You can't just accuse me of something you have no proof of, Y/n. Honestly, I'm quite hurt that you think I would do something like that."

Your mother turns to calm down the audience when you notice a giant stain on the bottom of her dress.

"Boston cream..." you mumble.

"What? This isn't time to be thinking about food," your fiancé frowns.

"No! I left my donut in your room when I went to put flowers on your desk! I watched you and mother make out on top of the desk. That stain is proof that she was sitting on your desk! How else could she have gotten that distinct chocolate glaze and cream filling on her dress?!" Your fiancé flinches, and your mother swoops in to try and save them.

"I was checking the catering when a waiter ran into me."

"Bullshit," you retort.

"Y/n, it's really not a big deal. Why don't we continue with the ceremony? You won't meet another nice fiancé like F/n again."

"No! Marriage this and marriage that! It's always you insisting... that I get... married," you finish in a hushed tone. "I didn't survive the antics of a psychopathic bear for two years just to marry some trash I don't even like!" Your head throbs, and you bring a hand up to soothe the pain in your temple. "Holy shit," you mumble to yourself. "I-I never wanted this. Why did I agree to do this?" Furrowing your brows, you try to remember why you agreed to this engagement. You vaguely recall being engaged, but why wasn't it with F/n?

Your mother panics and grabs your hands. "I did this for your own good, Y/n. I couldn't have you marry a biker --a biker, Y/n!" She continues to ramble on, her eyes freaking you out. "We can share. It's no big deal. It was so lonely when you were gone, but F/n kept me company. We can keep each other company from now on." Her grip tightens to the point of it being painful, but you're unable to wriggle out of her iron hold over you. "Oh, you should have just eaten your donut like a good kid. If you had eaten it, none of this would have happened." You manage to wrench her hands off of you and shove her away. Your mother has clearly gone insane during the time you disappeared... has she been spiking your food?

You narrow your eyes at your ex-fiancé. "Were we ever dating?" You ask. Your memories are a jumbled mess currently, and you can no longer recall what happened when you came home after escaping Hope's Peak Academy.

"Only for a month or two before you went missing. I only dated you to get closer to your mom," they admit, to which you reply with a punch to their face. The audience cheers, and some even whistle, which makes you feel like a total badass. The sound of an engine revving catches everyone's attention, and a familiar figure comes blasting down the aisle on a motorcycle.

"Mondo!" You brighten up upon seeing him. With your back turned, you're unaware of the blow your ex-fiancé is about to deliver for that punch you gave them. A blur of white flashes past you and the shrieks of F/n echo in the room.

"You fucker!" You turn around to see Mondo lifting them up before smashing their face into the wedding cake that was conveniently placed near the altar. He dusts off his hands before confidently strutting towards you and carries you in his arms.

"Where have you been," you whisper, the blood rushing to your cheeks.

"Pickin' up some of your things. You're obviously movin' in with me after that shitshow." You notice that a duffel bag is sitting in the sidecar, presumably holding your belongings.

"You can't leave, Y/n! The ceremony isn't finished!" your mother wails, flinching when she sees your icy glare. Mondo sets you down on the bike before sitting in front of you. He kicks up the kickstand, and you flip your middle finger at your mother and her lover.

"Fuck both of you! I'm moving out!" you shout right before Mondo speeds out of the reception hall, leaving everyone in a state of confusion. You laugh and whoop in joy as the wind runs through your hair. Mondo glances back and smiles at your state of excitement. "Did you see the look on their faces?!"

"Yeah, the two of them looked 'bout ready to shit themselves. Ya did good, Y/n." You can feel the warmth radiating off his back as you tighten your hold around his waist. Suddenly, you remember the engagement ring on your finger. You had slipped it back on earlier, but now you have no use for it. You remove the jewel-encrusted band and watch the road. Once you pass by a bridge, you toss the ring. A finger on your right hand glimmers.

"Mondo, do you remember where I got this ring?" you ask, gazing intently at the purple gem in the center of the ring.

"Course I do. I was the one who gave it to ya." You knit your brows.

"Is this the present you gave to me to celebrate something?" When he doesn't respond, you crane your neck to catch a glimpse of his face, noticing that it's bright red.

"It was to celebrate our engagement," he finally answers.

You exclaim in surprise, "We're engaged?!"

He nods solemnly and begins to explain everything to you from his perspective. He recounts how the two of you fell in love at the academy, how he proposed when everyone escaped, how you started to ignore him the night after and suddenly became engaged to someone else. "The gang's gonna lose their shit when they see ya!" he happily states, rambling on about how everyone missed seeing you.

"What now?" you ask, still staring at the ring --which is now on your left ring finger.

"Well, you did promise me you'd wear it on your wedding day." He pulls up to his biker gang headquarters. The building is decorated crudely in flowers with a sloppy hand-painted banner of Mondo's name and yours. Tears well up in your eyes, and you try to blink them away.

"Did you plan for this to happen?"

"I sure as hell wasn't gonna let you marry anyone else but me," he huffs, stepping off the bike and extending his hand to you. "I was even ready to snatch ya away if things didn't go as planned."

"But who will officiate our wedding?"

"Of course, it's gotta be my bro, Taka. Who else? Man's so talented, he's gonna be my best bro and our officiant!" You laugh at his words, glad that his bromance with Taka is still going strong. "You're fuckin' beautiful when you laugh, ya know that?" He admires your crimson face and cheekily plants a kiss on the corner of your mouth. "You'll look even better with Owada as your last name." He tugs your hand and leads you to the entrance. You walk through the door together and see all of your old classmates.

"Y/n!" they all shout happily. You grin, practically glowing from all the attention. Your friends cancelled going to the first wedding because they were busy attending your wedding with Mondo.

This is it, this is the wedding you wanted. A wedding surrounded by close friends in a place you cherish.

Mondo squeezes your hand. The two of you walk down the aisle together, where Taka is waiting with a dictionary in his hands. You eye the book and let out a small laugh.

"It was the best I could do on such short notice!" he says, profusely defending himself.

You stare lovingly at the man standing in front of you, his eyes glimmering like the gem on your ring.

Today's the big day; today you're finally going to marry your fiancé.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

Holy shit, I re-read this and fell in love with it all over again. This is one of my all-time favourite works that I've written and I hope you guys love it even half as much as I do.

I noticed while skimming that I used Y/n in this work. I have come to personally prefer not using/reading it, so any current or future works I write will not have it. Although I know it can be a bit difficult in this regard because of wedding vows. I would like to add I will probably also try to avoid anything like f/n (friend's name), y/e/c (your eye colour). etc. Mostly for immersion reasons and my brain hates auto-filling in words.

This work is based on a prompt: "Twenty minutes before you are about to get married, you find your mother and your fiancé kissing passionately."

Reblogs are appreciated!

#danganronpa #mondo owada x reader #mondo x reader #mondo owada #danganronpa x reader #fluff and angst #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #I can't tag too much without giving anything away and I hate it #Taka and Mondo bromance #We love to see it #You and Mondo get married #Banter #bamf reader #bamf mondo #established relationship?#tbh this is one of my favourites #gender neutral reader

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lizalfosrise · 7 months

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Rise who are your favorite AK antagonists? Personality, aesthetics, story, gameplay, whatever metric you want to use.

Ahh, there's so many!

Most Reunion commanders of course but especially:

Crownslayer - seeing that artwork of Crownslayer on the hill of Chernobog rubble as a promo near launch then in that intro in-game was instantly 'wow i hope we get them that outfit is stylish- wait what do you mean she's an antagonist AHHH THAT'S NOT GONNA WORK OUT FOR HER! STOP!' (Lo and behold, clownslayer bullying) She just keeps getting fucked over progressively worse as things go on... W - The Character Of All Time. Starting off like 'oh sick ch1 boss design- hang on she SMOKEBOMBED AWAY!? NO DEATH ANIMATION ALLOWED HAHAHA HOW FUNKY! "KILL YOU LATER" alrighty!' and then uh yeah, Chapters 2&3 happened. Boy was that fucked up. But then we got to see her plans unfurl prior to Darknights Memoir which solidified her as Fucking Incredible. I finally understood the Hype about her banner on CN. Character I simply resonated with so strongly at that point. Phenomenal major player in the main story. Is she bound to meet a violent end? I feel like it'd be a neat and tragic mirror to the end of Arc 1 if there was an Amiya/W face-off eventually. FrostNova - Yelenaaaaaa....... Perish in Frost is gonna end me all over again honestly. Very important bnuyu. Listening to Lullabye repeatedly lately; in memoriam, and an attempt to memorise the lyrics in anticipation. Personally it's kind of amusing that she gets the True Rng attacks with her Black Icicles. Genuine, authentic russian roulette gameplay. Crisp design, that pale ice-blue is a nice touch.

Non-Reunion:

Mandragora - my wonderful soggiest poor little meow meow dripping mud n dirt n blood everywhere <3 Ain't she great! Now that Yato can go visorless, a Masked slot is available! Make it so, Hypergryph. Sometimes self-care is skewering Victorians to instil fear as catharsis for trauma-inducing abuse that more-or-less ended one of her lives that she crawled out of like a more bedraggled version of Kill Bill's The Bride. Unhinged, justifiably-founded but now-disproportionate revenge is just fun. Wear your wrath like a mantle. Anyhow it's as gutting as intended that she's the one that most cared for her troops and the Taran peoples; for overturning the Victorian nobility and their policies. So it'd be nice to see an actual return after they let her vanish in Londinium. Also HornDragora excellent dynamics Ya - Ohohohohoho. Hypergryph really love making characters just for me~ They deserve to burn Yan to ashes, absolutely. Not the traitor bitch-in-chief Sui. Oh, you're mad that you got betrayed by the insects whom you taught to kill gods? Really now? That bastard pulled a Zaaro and wants to be the last one standing, to curse Yan with his rebirth and outlive those He betrayed. Fuck that. Ya is essentially bleeding out after being woken from stasis by the shitforbrain Shanhaizhong idiots yet doing all the cool wuxia villain shit in a heartbroken rampage to bring Sui back simply for Them to burn the world and die together as kin once more. Wonderful! And though I don't recall if Fire Emblem: Awakening did have that same exact dynamic between Grima and the Grimleal, I adore that scenario of 'hey you fucked me over in order to have the end of the world summoned for you BUT guess what? You die too, bitch. No world domination for you filth either!' (Heroes recently gave us the true Laser-Guided Karma moment with that) They carved away specific slivers of time for Their pocket dimension home to keep Their cherished moments away from humanity and got woken up by nobodies, for little of purpose. YA01, what a legendary codex tag. The boss gimmick was an interesting way of doing the clone tactic but damn those additional spawns if you let Them move too far forward. Overall I like Them a normal amount, see. Pancho Salas - This guy was ridiculous, what a goofy Bond villain parody. Lovely action film setpiece of a map fending off his armoured missile boat and those waverider casters from a chewed-up luxury yacht in an artificial sea. Taking his boat down only to face the absolute brick wall of an anchor-wielding seadog with a metal arm, damn. Dossoles Holiday was much more fun than expected even with its Deep Water/Tides mechanics. Kaschey - Not exactly a favourite, but. They made a very good punching bag of an Actual Evil Bastard. That scummy method of self-propagation allowing him to be all "Ursus is MY plaything and I shall continue to grease its wheels with the blood of all those my Glorious Empire shall oppress!" was one hell of a reveal to throw into that interlude, huh? And that colour palette he maintains across his victims - the austere, harsh grays and black against white with dashes of crimson: it's the bloodstains amidst the Ursus Tundra echoing his presence. That's a sublime and careful coordination, yet more of Hypergryph's mindful consideration and planning behind characters, behind lore themes & motifs. Zumama, during Great Chief Returns - I CAN BEAT GAVIAL'S STRENGTH WITH MY ENGINEERING I PROMMY, GODDAMMIT (can't, lmao) Tomimi, during Great Chief Returns - I CAN KEEP GAVIAL WITH ME IN ACAHUALLA FOREVER I PROMMY, GODDAMMIT (can't, lmao. Gets tail-spanked, lmao) Jetpack Thief/Jetman from IS2 simply because the Arts Drones are more of a threat than his dumb arse. Stall, he hops into flight when we're given Anti-Air Defense tiles boosting ranged atk, and when he lands you should have a burst dps melee ready to grind him. One of the safest Floor 3 bosses if rngesus has allowed it. IS3's Pathshaper gets a shout here too for being a hilariously-deletable non-event of a Floor 3 boss.

On the more passive antagonism side of things would be ones like:

Degenbrecher (all sides knew it's just a stalling game where Enciodes is far more antagonistic towards the Very Shitty Clan Leaders & Great Elder, yet Sharp actually held out sparring with her) The Last Steam Knight (a warping of conviction and duty beyond death that defends a final bastion "You are not permitted to stain MY Victoria! Trespasser!") Dusk ("Hey what the fuck are you looking for me for? Get in the painting idiots. Wait, you lot have too much trauma to deal with that? Lame. Why's my annoying big sister here too?!") Ho'olheyak (she's not evil, and not the arc's villain, just as she said; but her manipulation of various parties during Dorothy's Vision/Lonetrail and taunting of both Saria and Muelsyse was enough for us to find delightful)

#arbellas-bakery #arknights #finally #kept you waiting huh #long rambles cut short and it's still a long post

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starryeyedskeptic · 2 years

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The Lord of Stariel book review

I was really looking forward to this book as it seemed like a whimsical fae romance similar to Half A Soul. The biggest problem I have with this book is the MC. Usual MC are boring, whinny and self absorbed so I tend to over look them but it was impossible to do that with this book.

The MC is so weak and insecure but the whole novel was trying to play her off as an independent woman. Which make me feel like this book was written by a professional virgin because because the relationship just seem so swallow. Like does the author not have any real life experience to go from.

I felt I had to write this review after reading the other book review where they praised Hetta about being a good MC. Am I reading this wrong? Or is the bar that low for fictional female MC. Her actions spoke more than her words and through the author was trying to show her as the perfect woman, her actions show how insecure and weak of character she was.

**Spoilers**

Lets start at the beginning. Who the fuck thinks about what colour lipstick they should wear to their father's funeral. PERIOD. Well this vapid MC - Hetta.

Examples below of her weak character.

Says she doesn’t care what people think of her but worries about what colour lipstick to wear to her father’s FUNERAL. Mets the hot butler right after she arrived for father FUNERAL and worries her hair looks a mess. Wearing trouser to meet Angus because she wanted attention but then hiding her trousers from an aunt who opinion she didn’t care about. WTF. She was strong and independent but she overheard her Aunt bitching about her and instead of just facing it uses magic to hide herself. Says she doesn’t care what people think but loves attention from hot men to validate her and cares about her appearance nonstop.

The books tries to show how badly she had been treated because of her profession as an Illusionist is looked down upon but then she calls other travelling fairs illusionist “minor illusionist”. Unlike her who had talent and training. If she didn’t like people looking down on her occupation why does she put down other people in the same profession? She wonders why hot butler takes a menial job the tone is very dismissive but hate it when she is looked down upon.

She hangs around with all men group after the funeral. Where the mean tell her “You’re the first female to say as much.” She wanted to invite her younger brother but didn’t mention her two sisters to invite them to her drinking party. Seems to be one of those women who like to hang with men because they are less drama but you know they are the ones always creating it. She was so happy Angus took her to a masculine pub where she ordered a beer instead of taking her to a dainty teashop to validate that she isn’t like other women. Hetta was always proving that she can do whatever a man can do and still be down to earth and beautiful while doing it.

Was flirting with August the lord of Penharrow but set boundaries for Wyn her butler and friend until she found out that he was a fae prince….

These example are just from the first ten chapters.

I feel like this book confuses valid criticism with oppression and uses Feminism to justify the push back. Honestly when she didn't even want to go after the estate manager who had been stealing money from the estate for years and from whom she could perhaps gotten information about the starstone. I was like perhap everyone was right and you are a terrible lord. I DNF it was just too cringy. It could have been good and the history could have been whimsical but it just came off as tacky and every time Wyn called Hetta My Star my eyes rolled back.

I can't believe there are four books in this series. It's incredibility slow moving book and nothing really happens and the mystery of who stole the starstone and made her her lord wasn't compelling at all. I do not recommend.

#the lord of stariel

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docholligay · 2 years

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Interests for Holligay’s Birthday Week

It’s coming! My week of birthday content, all of which is stuff I like and want to do. If your suggestions is not on this list, it doesn’t mean that it was a bad suggestion, it was just like going through movies you like and saying “nah” to one.

One thing I am going to do along with the cocktails is this suggestion:

Clever idea, thank you for having it! It’ll make the little streamlets more fun to have a topic to chat about after I make the cocktail.

It’s very helpful to me to know what interests you because engagement is honestly one of the things that’s the most fun for ME. It’s a quick checkbox poll and I appreciate you doing it.

POLL IS HERE

Explanations of events, if needed, are below, in alphabetical order

Deadwood Liveblog: Fairly self-explanatory

God Queen Emperor of the Universe Holligay: JETTY I KNOW THIS WAS YOU. “If I were God Queen Emperor of the Universe”: is something I generally say before wishing I could be an authoritarian dictator. The gist of the day is me ranting about things you should be doing, watching, not doing, it’s basically an entire day of me going, “Get your shit together! Make an effort!”

Haru-cooking-show stream: Haruka cooks something probably v horrifying, in video form.

Holligay Loves Food: A day of favorite recipes, flavor combinations, food-based posts and asks and maybe even videos.

Jackbox game day/night: Again really straightforward! Jackbox games.

Justified Liveblog: A liveblog! Of Justified!

Live Q&A Session: What I’m going to do is put out a couple very very broad categories, write down any questions I get, and draw them out of a hat with no real time to prepare for them!

Noted English Major Holligay: I make it deep. We’ve done such fun topics as Mortal Kombat, Friends, aesthetic, and the itsy bitsy spider

Rewatch the first episode of Utena and give thoughts/quick liveblog: Basically that

Round robin fic writing day with Jettison Q. Wolvington (or perhaps viewers like you?): This was a really interesting suggestion that came in. Basically Jetty and maybe a couple others interested in playing: One of us starts off the story, and then the other has to continue it, going back and forth and probably massively frustrating each other in the process. I cannot REMEMBER the last time I did a Round Robin.

Writing Day (advice type): As in “Holligay how to I do X?” or “how do I stop myself from doing Y?” or “Holligay I find myself with three barrels of salt pork.”

Writing Day (creative Fandom type asks): These are things like, “What type of perfume would Haruka wear?” or “Imagine a situation where Lena has to wear sweet lolita”

Writing day (fic prompts): Also very straightforward! An oldie but a goodie.

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kurt-wagner-official · 1 year

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Post #23: UXM Annual issue 5, Avengers Annual issue 10, and UXM issues 151-152

This annual costars the Fantastic Four. Other than Hank’s periodical appearances, which don’t really count as a crossover, this is the first proper team-up story Claremont has written. Just as a general rule, when I’m writing about team-up stories with characters not under the X-umbrella, I’m mostly gonna breeze over the parts with other heroes to focus on the X-Men characters, cause I don’t wanna lose focus in this post series. I do love the FF and maybe I’ll write about them, but not today. The exception will be when those parts of the story are adding to the X-parts, like in some later FF crossovers where there’s focus on cross-team relationships and thematic parallels between the two families. Here, though, they’re just here for the creators to have fun with and to boost sales. It is interesting that right after Byrne left to write and draw Fantastic Four, Claremont writes a Doom story and now an FF one. Maybe their relationship has improved with distance, or maybe he’s trying to piss him off. Anyway, most of the FF is kidnapped by the alien Badoon, who have tracked and killed a Shi’ar messenger looking for Xavier. Susan escapes and goes to the X-Men for help. The Shi’ar’s last words were of Arkon, and Scott still has his teleportation lightning bolts, so the team goes to his world. This is Kitty’s first official mission, and she tries to wear another ridiculous self-made costume, but they make her change. The Badoon conquered Polymachus and captured Arkon, and once their military is stronger, the plan to conquer the Shi’ar as well. Before going into the field, Kurt and Logan have a follow-up to the conversation they had after their trip to Canada. Logan says that this is war and he’ll do what’s necessary. Kurt says he can’t and won’t stop him, but he wants him to remember the value of life and the gravity of killing, even when it’s justified. Kurt believes that Logan can and should try to change his killer ways. They put the conversation on hold as the team splits up to attack different areas of the Badoon citadel. Peter finds himself overwhelmed by a Badoon monster, but when it threatens Kitty, he’s overcome with berserker rage and defeats it. We’ve seen before and we’ll see again Peter’s temper. He’s not the traditional stereotype of a battle happy strongman. He’s typically more of the gentle giant archetype, sensitive and loving with a preference for peace. But he subverts that too with a temper second only to Logan’s. It’s a nice character decision that sets him apart from a lot of other bricks. Sue frees her team, and there’s a few pages of Brent Anderson (who’s back for this issue by the way, I forgot to mention earlier) having fun with the huge ensemble until Reed does some science to destroy a big self destructing machine and save the day. The X-Men have inspired the people of Polymachus to revolt and win back their world. Before the X-Men go home, Ororo and Arkon kiss and tell each other they wish they could be together, but neither can leave their world and their responsibilities. Ororo says she lives single by choice, and rarely regrets that, but does now with Arkon. Compared to her teammates, Ororo has very few love interests of the course of her history, and I’m very glad for that. Over the years, other than T’Challa, which is a relationship that I honestly find bland and underdeveloped, and Forge, which is an on again off again thing that’s very interesting but should have ended in the eighties, her relationships have either been short lived and forgotten or censored for being gay. I think it’s the best thing for the character; she’s very independent and free, and I feel like most of her possible love interests intentionally or unintentionally stifle some parts of her very complex personality. She only feels like she’s fully herself when she’s single, and it’s good for characters like that to exist. That being said, I do think that she and Logan having a quasi-romantic friends with benefits situation would be really interesting for both characters, since I have similar thoughts about Logan, and it would be a unique relationship in the franchise. But I’ll talk about that later. Overall, this was a fun and inconsequential crossover, but it does plant the seeds for some great FF/X-Men stories down the line.

Avengers Annual 10 actually takes places before issue 150, which Carol had a brief appearance in, but it doesn’t have much affect on the series until after, so I think this is the best place to read it to maintain the flow of the series. I’m gonna speak very briefly about the plot cause most of it is about the Avengers (duh). I will be focusing on Carol Danvers, because she’s about to briefly join the X-Men, and Rogue, because this is her first appearance and origin (also just in advance I’m gonna call her Anna just to fit the pattern, but that wasn’t revealed as her name until I think 2004). Some backstory: in the worst Avengers story ever written, retroactively called the Rape of Ms. Marvel, Carol was mind controlled by a time traveler named Marcus, who “persuaded” her to fall in love with him and because of weird time travel give birth to him. He was only able to permanently exist in a pocket limbo dimension, so Carol went there with him and all of the Avengers thought it was romantic. In this story, the Avengers find out she’s mysteriously back when she falls off a bridge in a coma. Jessica Drew saves her and calls Xavier, who says that her conscious mind has been completely erased. This is revealed to be the work of Anna, who absorbed her powers permanently and as a side effect her personality. On the orders of Mystique, her adoptive mother, she beats up the Avengers, stealing their powers before breaking the Brotherhood out of prison. The Avengers stop them, but Anna and Mystique escape again. Anna actually gets very little character work in this issue; she’s mostly just gloating about how strong she is and beating everyone up. The Avengers go to the X-Mansion to speak with Carol, who breaks down and tells them the full story: they all accepted Marcus’s story at face value and didn’t question when he said he was no longer controlling Carol, but because of time travel stuff, as soon as they returned to his dimension he aged to death. Carol was able to reopen his portals and return, wanting to rebuild her life away from the Avengers when Anna attacked. From a meta standpoint, this is probably the best way to handle the follow-up to such a horribly conceived and written story. It kinda paints the rest of the Avengers as truly terrible people, but that’s for the best so we can focus on Carol. This is the downside to a huge shared publishing universe: if one author writes a horrible story like this (David Michelinie was the writer of Avengers, but I think Jim Shooter has taken the blame for this story), then the next writer has to deal with the implications. And if one author writes a story that every other author hates, what is the validity of that story in that character’s history? Hank Pym and Peter Parker have both hit their wives in anger due to a writer/artist miscommunication. Later writers ignore the Peter incident, because it was out of character and should never have happened, but for Hank it’s defined him for decades. Which is the right approach? It’s a question that needs to be asked more. It won’t come up much on this blog, because when one man writes the series for 17 years, and most of the spinoffs are by either him or Louise Simonson, who he works closely with, there’s very little disagreement between creators and nothing is forgotten. Which for the most part is a good thing, because Claremont and Simonson are great writers, but there are occasionally some questionable choices, and for better or worse those are always undeniably canon and important.

Finally back to the main series, where Cockrum is taking a break while a whole committee of artists fill in, Xavier gets a letter from Kitty’s parents saying they’re pulling her out of the school so she can go somewhere with kids her age. Which since they don’t know she’s a mutant is a very reasonable move, because if I were a parent I would think it’s very weird that the second youngest “student” is 19. Kitty is heartbroken; not only is she leaving the place and people that make her happiest, she sees this as an attempt to get her even farther away while they’re going through their divorce. And worst of all, they’re sending her to Emma Frost’s Massachusetts Academy. Emma Frost is the White Queen of the Hellfire Club, the first villain Kitty ever faced, and still alive after apparently dying fighting the Phoenix. Kitty’s whole world is falling down around her right when she’d regained stability, and her instinct is to lash out and blame her parents. But Xavier confirms they’re acting of their own free will, so there’s nothing he can do. She says her goodbyes and promises to visit, and kisses Peter, which means I can no longer ignore the elephant in the room I’ve been avoiding mentioning- Kitty and Peter’s relationship. They’ve been flirting and attracted to one another the entire time she’s been on the team, which is so very creepy since he’s at least 19 and she’s 13. This is one of those instances I was talking about last paragraph, where Claremont really should have been stopped, but since he’s the only writer for both characters for so long their relationship can’t just be softly retconned. This is by far my least favorite part of the run, and I hate that to this day it’s still the main on and off relationship for both characters. Ororo drives Kitty to her new school, and when Kitty is off with her orientation advisors, the White Queen appears, swaps their minds. Ororo, in Frost’s body, is a prisoner, why Frost heads back to the X-Men with an evil plan. At the mansion, the second creepiest X-couple, Kurt and his adoptive sister Amanda, are having a walk by the lake when they’re attacked by Sentinels under Shaw’s control. They destroy just as “Ororo” returns and takes them all out. Meanwhile, the real Ororo picks the lock on her cell and goes to Kitty. Unlike Frost, who’s having a great time with the powers of Storm, Ororo is both lost without the power that she put so much of her identity in and overwhelmed by her new telepathic powers. She flashes back to her time with Jean when her own telepathy was growing out of her control, and pulls herself together. But when Kitty tries to run, she accidentally hits her with a psionic attack, knocking her out.

Ororo tries to flee with Kitty, but Frost returns and accidentally causes their car to crash. Kitty saves who she thinks is her enemy, and Ororo tries to tell her who she is. Kitty’s not convinced, but she agrees to go along to save the X-Men in case it is the truth. At the mansion, Shaw turns Logan over to the guards that he gutted in the basement of the Hellfire Club. They survived and were upgraded with cyborg components, and they and Leland torture him to what they think is his death. But it was an illusion cast by Amanda, who the villains don’t realize has powers. Kitty and Logan save their friends, and Logan has a reunion with Cole, one of the bionic guards. Cole begs for death, saying his current existence is worse, but Logan basically calls him a little bitch who’s not worth it. Logan knows that being physically augmented doesn’t take away your humanity, but maybe Cole didn’t have any to begin with. In the past, he would have just killed Cole without hesitation, but now he knows there’s other way. It isn’t mercy though, because Cole wants to die. I think this is Logan starting to agree with Kurt’s idea that even a justified kill weighs on Logan’s soul, and the pathetic Cole isn’t worth it. Meanwhile, the storms Frost has created are out of control, but Ororo, with the mind swapping gun in her hands, takes control of Frost’s mind to reverse the process. She then shoots her, reclaiming her body, and though they are high in the air, she saves Frost from the deadly fall. But when she immediately attacks, Ororo lets loose on her for her horrible acts of violation against Ororo and her friends. She fully intends to kill her, but she’s stopped by Logan of all people. He says that killing changes and taints you, and although he won’t stop, he thinks Ororo shouldn’t give up on being better. He’s very right, because when Ororo does kill, in the upcoming Brood Saga, it changes her, and it’s a long time before she finds herself again. But that’s all later. Right now, the battle is won, but since they’re unable to expose the other group without exposing their own identities, the X-Men and Hellfire Club parts ways hating each other but in peace. Overall, a pretty good arc, but far from the best Hellfire story. It says some interesting things about the violations of mind control and body stealing, but those themes will be done much better in upcoming Carol/Anna stories and in the Brood Saga.

#wes reads xmen

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dzpenumbra · 11 months

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6/13/23

I woke up last night after 5 hours of sleep, and this time... it was a nightmare. And I got myself to dream journal, which was good. But... see... usually when I journal and process the dream, I come to realize that the experience of the dream itself was the most disturbing part. Usually it's kinda like a purging of emotions, and the imagery is sorta... I feel like it's prompted to kinda subconsciously justify getting those emotions out, if that makes sense. So the situations in the dream feel intense, but after reflecting on it, it isn't really that bad. Today, however... this was the exact opposite of that. After journaling and reflecting, I felt much much worse.

I have been super panicky lately, very anxious, very tense. Way more than I had been in ages. Very viscerally, too. Lots of physical anxiety symptoms that I haven't felt in a really long time. It's becoming a daily thing now. I guess it's just that whole... not feeling safe thing. And feeling that way... within my own body. That awareness of how fragile and fleeting life is.

This dream wasn't really about that at all though. It was about... vulnerability, and trust. Putting that trust into the wrong hands, willingly, eagerly. I was out partying in the woods with some friends, and my former "friends" showed up. And I took their arrival as sorta marking that I was safe to start getting drunk. I used to do that at parties a lot in my late teens and early 20s, just hold off on getting drunk until I knew for a fact that I had a place to stay or had a backup ride or something. It's just smart. I have no fucking clue why I thought these two were the safe bet though. One of them... she is the one that texted me a few months (weeks? idk) ago. The one who became a homeless fentanyl dealer who lost custody of her kids. Enough said... It's hard to put into words the pain she put me through, the fucked up things she did to me. The other? Someone we used to do drugs with, in the short period where I was regrettably recreationally doing coke. Just... putting that into words makes me feel a lot of shame, honestly. That's the association I have with her.

In the dream, I was kinda explaining that since they arrived, I was now allowing myself to start getting fucked up. And they asked me why I do that, and why I act weird when I smoke weed, too. And back then? I did not speak like this. I like to think that I thought like this, but I honestly can't even recall. But I was not this outwardly open and honest with my feelings at all; in fact, I was really quiet and reserved. But in this dream space, I was Present Me in Past Me's skin. And I just started telling them very bluntly, stream of consciousness, that I don't feel safe around people and that weed makes me feel very vulnerable. Vulnerability was a HUGE theme in this dream. And that I need to make sure that I am safe before I allow myself to be vulnerable. And the rest of the dream after that is really fuzzy but it was like... self-reporting to one of the cops from the RP server I watch, like turning myself in or something.

I woke up and I was not in good shape. I journaled and then did like a full page reflection after to process this concept. This concept that just permeates my entire life. That I'm just a trusting little puppy that just wants to make a friend, who just wants love and play and friendship and happiness. And I wear my heart on my sleeve and roll over and show my belly and... even sacrifice my values and do things I wouldn't otherwise do due to peer pressure or just to fit in... which haunts me with tremendous amounts of shame well over a decade later. All just to have a normal fucking life. All just for a normal fucking friendship. To just go and eat lunch and drive around and talk about music and shit. To go hiking and skateboarding. To talk about our problems and be there for each other. This has been so fucking absent in my life that I have suffered some of the most horrific things of my life just for a taste of it.

So... once I connected the dots in the dream... I saw that my dream self was kinda bluntly showing me the exact problem I have: I trust the wrong fucking people. When I have a crippling pre-existing anxiety disorder. And when I trust, I trust completely. Something psychology calls "porous boundaries", where I do... basically what I'm doing now - openly sharing my true authentic thoughts. And... that led me to another thought.

I have been wondering if what I'm doing here - this, this journal - is a good idea. Obviously it's anonymous, which keeps me "safe". I don't use real names, which is good. I didn't even use age or gender for months, deliberately. I'm thinking very fast and struggling to connect the proper way to phrase this. I feel like this journal is my primary form of communication, regardless of whether it's interpersonal or not. It's the majority of my thought-output directed towards an external audience (even if that external audience may just be myself), rather than internal banter. Outside of this journal, the only other social interaction I have is therapy for one hour a week, and the very rare seconds-long run-ins in the hallways on the rare occasion that I leave my apartment. I wonder if nurturing this way of communicating - which has been a life-goal of mine for a while now - making this form of expression effortless and nearly thoughtless is a bad thing. I don't necessarily think putting my thoughts out here like this in itself will come back to cause problems, but I'm afraid that training myself to be perpetually communicating like this will be like... getting my nuclear launch codes tattooed on my forehead. That I'm going to run into the wrong people out in the wild, thinking they're my friend... like I always do... And I'm going to have a gleeful shit eating grin on my face as I delicately load bullets into their fucking gun for them to use against me. As I have many times before.

This led to a nice adrenaline surge of remembering exactly why I'm avoiding meeting new people. I'm afraid good people are a myth. I'm afraid of running into more predatory people.

There was this allegory that really hit home for me a few years back, I think it was something from a Joseph Campbell video or something. It was about being a tiger amongst sheep, abandoned as a cub and being raised by sheep and thinking it was a sheep and eating grass and shit. Until other tigers came along and they took him back home and slowly adjusted him to their way of living, his natural state. I identified with that image on a lot of levels at the time, to the point where I kinda adopted the tiger as a spirit animal kinda thing. Now? Now... I almost feel the opposite. I kinda feel like a sheep amongst tigers... very very aware that I am a sheep and they are tigers... trying to go unnoticed and praying every day that they don't just turn on me and eat me alive.

And... I think that's a good way to describe what it's like to have whatever psychological disorder is manifesting here. Be it PTSD or severe social anxiety or agoraphobia, or a nice homebrew of all the above. That was a rough way to start the day. It took me a long time to get back to sleep.

I even gave up and started googling "mindfulness exercise for guilt and shame". Because I started... this is a classic abuse-victim thing, by the way. I started blaming myself. I started hammering in on "I should've known better", "I'm a bad person for having made bad decisions", "I should've walked away", "I'm better than that." With decades of shit. My family. Both of my exes. My former best friends. It was just a torrent of shit. And I was reading about the difference between guilt and shame. It seriously helped. I often don't like googling simple shit like that because... I mean... I'm smart, right? I feel like I know the difference between guilt and shame. But... can I articulate it? Humility is a necessary step before growth.

I'm literally googling the difference right now for a refresher. XD

Guilt is like an instruction manual for a specific wrong thing that was done. A lesson to be learned. "I cheated on that test and I don't feel right about it, so I feel guilty to remind myself of that." Shame... shame is a defense mechanism. A way to control and alter a past situation. It attacks your own morality and credibility... in some cases as a way to make it sorta inevitable that the situation would unfold the way it did. "Of course they broke up with me, I'm a broken person." Shit like that. It... softens the blow, with the narrative that there's no other way it could've turned out. OR... it can be a way to control upcoming things to keep ourselves safe. Blaming yourself, so that you can then focus on fixing something that was never your fault to begin with. So that you feel this sense of like... I can make it right. When you were never wrong to begin with. "I don't have friends because I'm a broken person, so I need to fix myself, then I'll have friends." When you were never broken, just... abused.

I guess it was easier for me to process that in second person. XD Weird how the brain works.

But yeah, reading stuff on that helped me a lot. I thought I was being consumed by guilt, but I'm not a fucking idiot. I know that cocaine is bad, that's why I quickly stopped doing it. Feeling "guilty" about that over a decade later is a sign of something different. It's not my brain saying "put a pin in that, next time say 'no'"... it's my brain saying "you should've known better, and you're a bad person for having done that." And that's fucking shame. Shame is a dick. Shame is a real cruel dick. "Shame on you." I guess that's a good way for me to remember it. If the sentence I'm saying to myself can easily have "shame on you" appended to it, it's... probably shame.

And what I learned this morning? Well... what I was reminded this morning... An antidote for this is compassion. Being self-compassionate. Being fair to myself. Being loving towards myself. Especially for things that were not my fault.

So yeah... that was a rough way to wake up.

I fell back asleep though. And I woke up the second time with 9 fucking minutes to get my grocery delivery. I set the delivery last night before my bath, and gave it a 3 hour window between 5 and 8. The dude delivered the food at 4:50. So I rolled out of bed, threw clothes on, grabbed my foldable cart thing with recycling in it and rolled out the door with Veil of Maya's new album in the AirPods. Morning breath and all. I usually take the elevator, but I only had one bag of recycling so I decided to fold up the cart and take the stairs. I ran into a college age dude who was coming down the stairs who held the door for me. I thanked him. I went and dropped off my recycling, got my groceries and saw two little dogs meeting at the front door. It made me so happy, I was grinning like a child. =D

I took the elevator back and when I got to my floor, the door opens and... I'm met by the same guy who held the door for me. And he said something like "ah, we meet again" or something, and I had music playing in my AirPods but I heard him and I laughed audibly, and then made this fucking horrendous wheezing noise after the laugh. It was fucking weird. Like I got a bubble in my throat or something, I don't know. It was embarrassing. Like... it's 5 PM, I'm un-showered, no scented oil that I use instead of deodorant because I'm a fucking hippie apparently, my breath probably stinks, and make this weird fucking wheezing noise. In the past, like... high school/college age? Even up to like mid-to-late 20's? I would've been fucking humiliated. Mortified. It would've taken me hours to come back from that. This was really not that big of a deal. I guess realizing all the other fucked up shit in my life earlier that morning helped me put it into perspective a bit? Idk. In hindsight, it's nice to see me caring less about superficial shit like that.

My workout was a bit tougher than normal today, I had to do these squat-to-sidekicks and it started fucking with the top of my right hip. Not sure what to do about that, really don't know how to get more mobility with my hips. Probably not sit around all day, that might help... But yeah, I knocked that out and it went well.

I played more Rimworld. I made homemade chicken with broccoli for dinner and it was really fucking good. I think it's pretty damn healthy too, and really wasn't that hard to make at all. I might try to make it a more regular staple.

I put more time into my fractal piece later in the night but... I'm struggling with it. I don't really like the direction it's going. But I don't really feel like it's my place to fight it. It's making itself. I am looking at it right now. I am tempted to just redo the texture that I did today, that I sunk hours into, and just... make the bubbles bigger. See if that changes my opinion on it. I feel like I just went too small with it. I don't know, maybe I'll come back to it tomorrow. It really took the wind out of my sails.

I get that sometimes. It used to happen more often with music. When a piece starts going in a direction and you genuinely don't know how to feel about it. And that whole "not knowing" gets interpreted as "bad". So... I think I'm gonna settle with <shrug> for today, and see what Tomorrow Me has to say about it.

Let's round out this big intense day with some tarot, shall we?

Past - Nine of Swords, inverted (Internal despair, nightmares, anxieties. Deceptive fears that appear to be reality, but are really illusions.) Present - XV: The Devil (Vices; indulgences, addictions, excesses. Being in a trap of your own design, which perpetually reopens old wounds, and struggling to release attachment to the lures of this trap in order to free yourself.) Future - The Sun (Hope, clarity, confidence. Success, fulfillment, revelation.)

This one is pretty surreal. Very on-the-nose. And the bonus card that I used as a placeholder in the book was inverted Ten of Cups which made me just kinda go... aww man... :( Buckle up.

The thread starts with inverted Nine of Swords. This is a new one for me. We had Eight of Swords last night, which was the bound woman, who just needed a shift of perspective to see that she wasn't actually trapped at all. This has a similar tone of things not being what they seem... but it seems much more all-encompassing and outside of your control. Where 8 seemed more like... you're kinda trapped by your own design? 9 feels more like... experiential. Like an actual nightmare, or panic, or insecurity, or anxiety. Which is, when you really break it down, an illusion. They can be firmly rooted in reality, but they are illusory by nature. This is very on-the-nose and... is of course inverted. Being kinda... stuck there.

This symbol connects to... The Devil. The Devil is not as much about eternal damnation and punishment all that... I've always thought of it more as a representation of temptation. But the way it was described in this guide was a refreshing take on it. They described it more as a sorta... Greek Tartarus self-punishment kinda thing. Like a hell of your own design, that you could actually free yourself from pretty easily, if you could only let go. Which, again... feels very applicable, which I'll get into in a minute.

And this concludes with a card I absolutely love seeing - The Sun. Hope. The new dawn. The sun coming up on the horizon, which I see the glow of every day.

In short - I'm stuck in torment. By specters of the past, anxieties, night terrors, you name it. Things that do not corporeally exist in the Now. These, and my accompanying insecurities and feelings of incompetence, the shame, the hopelessness... they keep me bound. And I am doing it to myself. Which is really hard to swallow for everyone, that you might in fact be the person ultimately causing your own current suffering. But once you get past that bitter pill of looking The Devil in the eyes... you see that... If you are the only one keeping you imprisoned... you are the only one who can set yourself free. Lucky you! And right on the other side of that? A beautiful new day. The light and clarity needed to move forward and grow.

It's always tough to see spooky cards, but this is a really inspiring message, and one that I really needed today honestly. I immediately look back at that stupid weird snort sound I made with the guy at the elevator. Years ago, I would've beaten the shit out of myself about that. I would've been mortified. Now? I was embarrassed, but it was mild and didn't last longer than 15 minutes. And my way of getting there? Try to put myself in their shoes. If I had that encounter and acted like him, and the other person made a weird snort, I'd probably just go "huh, that was a weird laugh" and completely forget that ever happened. I do not tend to judge people for shit like that. And if this guy really did think I was a weirdo or something for it? Well... do I really care? Do I care what some judgmental person thinks of some weird involuntary breath bubble sound that I couldn't control? No. And the only one inflating that scenario to a level where emotions even need to be involved? Me. It's my Devil, it's my trap. And all I have to do is let it go, and it disappears.

Shame does seem to be my trap. The solution? Be a bit more shameless. :) This journal is a big part of that, but I think I need a bit more. Snowskating in the park was huge for that. Skating for hours in front of an audience, where people could see me fuck up and judge me, and be able to just... move past that? Because fuck their opinion? That helped me with confidence a lot.

I want to share a memory before I go. It's a little painful, and very frustrating, but it was very memorable and I think relevant. I took my girlfriend to a big mall about an hour and a half away from home. It was like a date night thing, I think one of the last dates we went on. I have been a Star Wars nerd since I was a child, she had never seen them, I sat her down and had her binge the entire prequel and original series with me in anticipation of the release of the new trilogy. This trip to the mall was us going to watch The Last Jedi. I'm actually pretty sure I got my current cheap-ass incense burner at one of those five and dime shops on that trip, too. I remember this trip vividly because when we were there, I committed myself to being more of a goofball. Skipping around and kinda dancing as I was walking and shit. Like I used to. It was always easier for me to do that in areas where I didn't know anyone, I guess. I remember I started doing it again at the grocery store here when I had the rental car, it was very liberating. :) And when we got to the iMax theater, I went up to the counter to get the tickets and I did this stupid little bit. I came up with it right before and didn't tell my ex, it was stupid and subtle, but the subtle things can get great reactions sometimes. I went and ordered the tickets but I put the emphasis on the wrong word. So instead of saying "The Last Jedi", I said "The Last Jedi". And I was fully expecting my ex to "yes, and" with me there and just treat it like it was completely normal and let it play out. But she did the exact opposite, she like pulled me back as though I was embarrassing her and she fucking corrected me. ... And that might've been one of the last times I did shit like that, at least in-person.

But I'll tell you, it may not seem like much? But I really think that was the moment that I really knew that she wasn't the one for me. Which is fucked because she gaslit me into thinking I was being an asshole to her and asked for a "break"... so she could fuck someone else... and then never told me about it, I just had to piece together the evidence later after I went groveling to get her back. It still fucks with my heart. And even with that, this was like... the reason why she wasn't the one. Because that's not a partner. It's so fucking blatantly not a partner. That's literally stifling and holding you back. Like... actually physically pulling you back and correcting you as though you're a child.

I miss that side of me, and I need to reconnect with him soon. I need to find a place for him to play.

It's late, bed time.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness

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byalanna · 1 year

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Why Women Love Modest Swimwear, in Five Reasons

If you've been to a beach recently, you've probably seen that the swimsuit fad is starting to fade. By that, I mean revealing progressively more skin while donning fewer bathing suits. It's more of a nudity trend than a swimwear craze. Even though the majority of women are buying swimsuits that more closely resemble provocative lingerie than anything you can really swim in, modest swimwear is growing in popularity. One-piece swimsuits, tankinis, shores, and full-coverage top and bottom bikinis are becoming increasingly popular in an effort to compete with the more swimwear.

There are five reasons why women like modest swimwear:

1. Concealment.Not everyone is as physically fit as the models on magazine covers. Furthermore, not everyone is able to conceal their defects while strolling along the shore. Whether it's a scar, extra body fat, cottage cheese, an unsightly mole, or a birthmark, most women are self-conscious about one or more physical characteristics. Modest swimwear gives us the chance to conceal parts of our bodies that we'd rather not flaunt in public.

2. Function. When you're swimming in the pool, playing in the surf, or speeding down a waterslide, it's reassuring to know that your clothing won't be pulled off. Several of those little bikinis may be completely removed or set aside with just a little pressure. Some of us prefer to dress more modestly to avoid the embarrassment of getting out of the water to discover the top of our bikini has been washed away by the tide. But purchasing modest swimwear is only justified if your swimsuit actually fulfils its intended function.

3. Objectification. Who enjoys moving about while appearing to be a piece of meat? Some women honestly would rather go to the beach and relax than have a bunch of scowling males watch every move we make. Instead of just lusting after modest swimwear, we may become more human by wearing it.

4. Comfort. Several of the new modest bikinis are noticeably more comfy than their skimpy counterparts. They do not rub and do not ride up the wrong holes. They fit the body well and are cosy in any environment. But not just for physical comfort. Additionally, there is social comfort. Modest swimwear may help you feel comfortable with anyone. When you come across a young family, an elderly couple, your employer, your grandfather, or your boyfriend's mother, you won't feel embarrassed.

5. Respect and Classiness. Wearing modest swimwear can help you stand out from the crowd because modern swimwear is sometimes barely clad. People make judgments about people quite rapidly. In contrast to people who wear almost nothing, girls and guys who dress modestly in their bikinis and other bathing suits exude a totally different mood. You may visit the beach and yet appear chic and alluring. Today's options for modest swimwear still emphasise a woman's natural contours while also covering the body, creating swimwear that is both lovely and elegant.

If you're one of the numerous ladies searching desperately for fashionable, modest swimwear, then visit- https://bit.ly/3SForRJ

Original source- https://bit.ly/3XVtUaT

#modest swim suit #bathing suit modest #modest swim suits #modest swim

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squirrel-the-adhd-mom · 2 years

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Chapter 3- Uh oh… The fuck??

9/28/2022

Wednesday the 28th of September, the year is 2022. HUMP DAY. Or in my current state of mind fuck this day.

Waking up overstimulated. Why does this happen? I honestly don’t know why it does for others but for me it seems to be because I was sleeping incredibly well (everyone in the house was) and my alarm went off before my body was ready to wake up. This means that for the remainder of the day my normal triggers will be extra sensitive and things that normally don’t bother me probably will. Theme song for days like this is “Break Stuff” by Limp Bizkit.

Bugs. I do NOT like bugs. Specifically grasshoppers, moths, earwigs or other jumpy bugs. So you will laugh at me when I say panic set in after I felt something on my foot inside my shoe. Maybe a piece of lint? Don’t over think it Mikayla. Then I felt it again so I took my shoe off to remove it. Shoe off, looking down and to my surprise.. more like nearly my demise. A god damn EARWIG. Don’t scream Mikayla, don’t scream. Deep overstimulated breathes. I am still alive.

Easy does it, right? Maybe for some but lately it’s like calm and collected is the opposite of what my son needs to achieve the day. So I mentioned everyone slept really well! That meaning Theo too. So guess who also got woken up before he was ready? Yep, Theo. Which means this morning is going to be TOUGH. Think positive, Mikayla. That’s the only chance you’ve got. Calm and collected.

“Mom I want to wear shorts!”

“Okay! These are the two pairs you have that are clean.”

Instant whining, crying, pouting

“Mom, those do not fit they are for fat boys. I am not a fat boy.”

Brain: “where in the hell did he learn this statement?”

“No, Theo they are not. That’s how boys shorts fit and even if they are a little big there is a draw string!”

Screaming, yelling, fighting.

Okay, I left Theo to his devices again. After 30 minutes of temper tantrum he came down stairs in sweatpants. Mind you after throwing a fit because they were to hot. Lord help me. Deep breathes. He is dressed!

After dropping the kids off at school I am headed to drop the babies off at Brandis house. On the way the their I could sworn I heard Ryann (2) say “fuck.” I ignored it so it wouldn’t turn into anything and it didn’t. I just responded with “uh oh.” Kids man I swear they are little sponges. That being said I mentioned to me words are words. This is also how I parent because they word bitch, ass, fuck, shit or whatever wasn’t a swear word u til it was labeled one by someone else. There is a time a place for such words and this is what I teach my children also. I will be the first to tell you that sometimes, actually most of the time “frick” doesn’t even begin to cover the way I am feeling. So when my kids get home from a crappy day at school and they want to scream the f word in their room, so be it. I feel you kid. Not to mention there are so many positive uses of the words to, for example: “I had the best fucking day!” Or “I am a badass!” I could name many more more but you get the gist.

Wow. My Addi threatened somebody at school today… That is unheard of. It takes a lot for that little girl to get so mad that she threatens them. It was justified, sort of, and she felt terrible about it. I’m still just shocked. Well and a little proud that she stood up for her self. I may teach her “sticks and stone break my bones but words don’t hurt me” although I know words are hurtful, instead of “I am going to break your arms and legs.”

Currently I’m sitting on the side of the road waiting on our mechanic to bring me more straps. Because this load fucking sucks. I fell on my ass tightening these god damn straps and I am not going to get home till like 9pm at this point. FUCK.

9pm… I would’ve taken that. It’s 10 now and my wind down phase is barely started. Blah. You’ll probably hear me say this more than once but sometimes people truly SUCK. Today was one of those days. I got to location and the spot I had to lay my trusses was not that great. Mind you i was damn near 80 ft long tip to tail. The trusses themselves were 62 ft and I’d be damned if i was lucky enough to have a first time back in and a decent offload considering I don’t drive this truck but once a month anymore. Well you’ll be happy to know I am not damned and well backing in and offloading was nothing short of a nightmare. Not to mention the damn home owners showing up and panicking thinking I was going to break all their trusses. Alright tanto relax if one truss breast you still have 79 more that are still useable. Needless to say my blood was boiling ramming it into reverse trying like hell to get there to roll. It was NOT happening. So half of them fell off the wife thought I was going to run them over. RELAX people I know how to do my job. At this point I’m in boarder line tears right simply from being over stimulated. Mind you I don’t cry. When I cry something is wrong. Luckily no one was around to see that fuckery unfold and the truck was loud enough to muffle my screaming.

Kids were in bed when I got home so not much to report there. Happy to be in bed so I am going to try and let the shut down phase finish up so maybe, just maybe I can sleep. Goodnight.

#adhd brain #adult adhd #living with adhd #mom life #successful #trucknation #cdllife

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