#i’ve just been so tired lately istg.. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

houseofhyde · 1 year

Text

dressed in white (putting off crying).

pairing. daemon targaryen x fem!reader

synopsis. he knows of those who whisper that seeing the bride in her dress before the couple stands beneath the eyes of the seven births nothing but bad luck for a marriage, but daemon targaryen cares little for superstitions.

warnings. canon appropriate sexism/misogyny, implied valyrian!reader, implied incest (if you interpret this as the reader being targaryen), daemon is a simp for his lover!, likely ooc!daemon (i'm new to writing for him, i’ll get better, i'm sorry), poorly translated high valyrian, angst, fluff, descriptions of sex.

word count. 5.6k

hyde's input. lmao the title is based off a lyric from the (superior) the 1975 song meanswear. this whole scenario has been playing on my brain since i first watched hotd and i need to get it out before it drives me crazy by living in my tiny pea-brain for too long. i literally only made this blog to post this (since it wouldn't suit the writings on my main blog), so idk if i'll actually post anything else on here but feedback would be appreciated! anyway, daemon is a menace to society, i love him. sidenote,, i've always been terrified to post any fics in the got/hotd fandoms because istg every writer in this fandom has a god-like level of prose and it intimidates me, so please be nice if you think this sucks :) i’ve only read through this once, there may be spelling errors but it’s late and i just want to post this already!!!

tight braids rip hair from skull, gold incased jewels trap a delicate neck in a chokehold, stiff fabrics snuff out any heat of the westerosi sun from gracing dampened skin.

you aim to breathe in an air of relief for your aching lungs, yet the maiden behind you denies you of such a virtue as she pulls tighter on the set of strings holding up your bodice. you grow more lightheaded, oxygen starved body swaying momentarily, as a few more of your ladies in waiting assist with dressing you in the white coffin, lace cuffing your wrists like shackles and the weight of the gown feeling akin to that of a great beast, be it the weight of a stag, or a lion, or a wolf.

or a dragon.

“please,” hardly recognising your own voice, you flinch at the broken rasp that makes its way past your lips. your throat burns, your stomach churns, your eyes carry bags beneath them. far from a blushing bride, you are. the days of celebration leading up to the ceremony have taken an effect on both your mind and body, restless nights leading to uneaten feasts and unquenched thirsts. alas, you push such thoughts to that corner in your mind you reserve for nothing but tales of docile dragons and knights in dirtied armor as you straighten your stand, shoulders rising and head holding itself high. “may i have a moment of solitude within my chambers?”

your ladies shoot their attention over to the eldest among them, a septa who's hair has grown a deeper shade of grey with the passing of time and face has grown wrinkled by a history of smiles and laughter, and who bares the name of dorothea.

“of course, lady y/n. every woman must steal her last moment of solitude before she marries herself off to her lord husband. solitude will be sparse once you are wed.”

like an army of men, though far more graceful and colourful, the ladies make way towards the entrance of your chambers, spilling out in a single file line and shutting the door behind them.

and finally you breathe.

once, twice, thrice, and then you are a mess of desperate gasps and trembling limbs. you make your way over to the mirror which centres the room, steps more of an uncoordinated tumble than a graceful walk of a future lady of court.

met with your own reflection, something feels off. like a lack of connection, your astute mind can not fathom how this frail, tired, solemn looking girl bares any resemblance to the confident, bright eyed and quick witted woman you'd grown to be.

you trace your hands over the flaring of the dress' skirt, as if working out the creases in the fabric will loosen the ones that line your forehead. so caught up in your own unfitting image, you barely register the reopening of your chambers door.

“please, dorothea,” you sigh the woman's name out like she's bound to you by something more motherly than mere duty, the years spent in her company making for far better memories than the fleeting time you've passed with your true mother. “just a few more minutes. i'm... not ready. not yet.”

“i should hope not, you've yet to finish fastening the buttons on that ridiculous gown they've forced you into.”

the first thing you notice as your eyes meet the mirror once more is that your frown has deepened.

“you can't-” the second thing is him, dressed in the onyx and blood colours of his house, his newly shortened hair styled in a way that gives him a near boyish charm. the only visible slither of dark sister- nothing but a handle pressing into his left side- reminds you this is no boy, but a man, brutal and abrasive and protective, fresh from a victorious battle in which he walked away with a crown and the offering of another sword for his brother's throne. you're quick to correct your choice of words. “you shouldn't be here, prince daemon.”

if you were anyone else, you'd think the prince cares little- if anything- for the words you cast his way, arms clasped behind his back as he strides across the room with an air of arrogance, confidence, the stature of a man who not only belonged within your chambers but within your heart.

but, alas, you are you, and that means a great deal when it comes to the study of one targaryen prince. only you would notice the twitch in his brow, the snarl across his lips that is quickly denied in exchange for a smirk, the slight shrink of his shoulders as the weight of the truth sets itself upon them.

he's displeased.

whether the reason be your unusual use of his title- an act he knows you've committed with the foolish hope of putting distance between you both, if not physically then at least in power- or your attempt to banish him from your quarters evades you, but it matters little, really, for daemon is still approaching you.

he's upon you quicker than you expected, quicker than you wanted.

“let me.” two words, simple and used from the most common of folk to the most regal of lords, uttered in an infinite number of scenarios. yet, they may be your undoing as the silver haired man welcomes himself to the feel of your skin, a single finger trailing it's way down what remains exposed of your back. the touch mimics a shiver, something that tickles down your spine in a disturbingly enjoyable manner.

you nod your approval, too afraid to open your mouth and see what sounds he elicits from you, your heart too long starved of affection and his gentle caress the first it's tasted in years.

the fear of speaking carries on even as he departs from your skin, both hands joining in finishing the task of clasping your dress together. maybe this is worse, you think, having his knuckles bump against you every so often as he fiddles with the pearly white buttons, teasing you with what could be, what could've been.

“i never imagined us marrying under the seven.” part of you believes he's mocking you, torturing you with words he knows will wrap around your heart like vines and pierce the delicate organ with its thorns. you wonder if this is the targaryen prince known for his callous words and disregard for the sentiment of another come out to show you his true colours once and for all, gone now the days where he'd shower you in expensive metals and feed you the sweetest of treats.

he catches your line of sight in the reflective glass and his smile widens, pulling his lips with a heavy sense of dishonesty that makes your insides twist. never did you think there'd come a day where daemon targaryen would fake a smile towards you.

“īlva qilōni carry se ānogar hen uēpa valyria should dīnagon isse se ways hen uēpa valyria.” us who carry the blood of old valyria should marry in the ways of old valyria. there was a moment in time- back when the sight of a man was enough to make you blush- that you believed there was nothing, and no one, that compared to the beauty of hearing daemon speak his ancestral language, the old flame of valyria setting his soul ablaze. as you stand now, eyes stuck on watching how he's focused on one particularly stiff button, you find only heartache in hearing him speak high valyrian. not even the way he breaks his composed facade- though only for a mere handfull of seconds- to frown and scowl down at the stubborn button is enough to ease the tension in your chest. “ondos bound ondoso ānogar, daor dovodedha cloth.” hands bound by blood, not silly cloth.

by the time he finishes off fastening your gown, bile burns the back of your throat as his hands smooth down your back, painfully slow in their travels, giving you enough time to think of how this isn't how things were meant to be.

daemon was supposed to be the one eagerly tearing off your dress, not trapping you in its suffocating confines.

you decide to play into his fantasy, to let not only him but also yourself indulge in the sweet naïveté of wishful thinking.

“skoros ābrar gōntan ao imagine syt īlva?” what life did you imagine for us?

he takes a breath, pausing the conversation and inhaling as if to stable his wavering heart, focus his mind on choosing his next words wisely or run the risk of you shoving him away completely.

when he at last answers, you wish you'd never asked.

“i saw us trading life in the keep for dragonstone, making a home for ourselves where the targaryen history runs deepest. it's where we'd wed, where i'd get to listen to you swear vows to me that carry true meaning, unlike the shit i’ll have to endure hearing you spew later in the sept.” relief floods over you like a great storm as he switches back to the common tongue, a downpour which serves to dampen the fiery passion in his voice. his hands have found rest upon your mid-riff, large and warm and protective in the way they pull you back against his muscular chest. “we'd host feasts for whenever my brother insists on visiting us to keep up appearances of a false bond between his new family and his old one. you'd teach me about other languages, so i could express my adoration for you in every tongue known to man, and i'd show you what it is to never want for anything, make sure you own every possession you desire and feel every emotion you require.

“when we're not busy playing politics, in the moments you're not teaching our sons how to thread needles and to be good husbands, while i encourage our daughters to wield swords and to be strong, we'd spend that time in the throes of pleasure." the blunt ends of his nails dig deep into the layers of fabric, as if he's trying to tear the dress off to reveal the real you beneath, the you he's become all too enthralled by. the you that's bare, and pliant, and begging for his touch in a way that is not only sexual but primal, as though you'd perish if not for the brush of his lips against yours and warmth of his body casting over you like a shadow meant to seal you away from the harsh world. "fuck a marital bed, we'd make it into a marital home, a marital garden, a marital beach. i'd take you anywhere, work my fingers into you till they are broken, bruise my knees just to drink your sweet nectar, fuck you so full of my seed till it has nowhere else to go and no choice but to drip out of you, covering us in our brutal lovemaking.”

“daemon-”

“they'll tire of us, eventually, all our poor maids and guards. tire of catching me with you bent over any surface, tire of hearing you chant my name like i'm your only god. they'll be running back to kingslanding with their tails tucked between their legs, ready to spread the gossip of just how insatiable the rogue prince and his ravishing wife really are.”

“daemon, you really-”

“we can still have that life, my love.” he sounds so hopeful, glances upon you so eagerly in the reflective glass that you near crumble to the ground if not for the support of his arms around you. “hmm, wouldn't you prefer we do that, instead of this over the top ceremony that'll leave you with nothing but a headache and sore feet?”

the heartache behind his intentions sedates the anger that quells within your chest, way past the layers of bodice. it is not born from nowhere, this anger. not a fiery pit lit from an explosive catastrophe but, rather, a sole flame that has simmered and festered and burned for a near three years, mothered by solitude and fathered by abandonment.

“no, we can't.” intending to put your foot down, reign in control over yourself, hands reaching to tear his tiresome hold off of you, you're bereft to find yourself sighing a breath that leaves clear the exhaustion you've been harbouring- far beyond just physical, deep in the trenches of neglected emotions- , body melting into a puddle at his feet upon watching the familiar sight of your embracing limbs in the reflection. bitterness bites the back of your throat in this repeat of familiar history: you, daemon and bodies touching away from prying eyes and gossiping courtiers. “my father... he'd have your head, daemon. after everything he has done to secure this union happened... after all the rumours... it wouldn't be fair to him.”

daemon hums out an acknowledgement and you nearly convince yourself he's in agreement, that he understands the repercussions that would entail if you gave in to his game of make-believe; that he knows these pretty words that once were a gift for a younger version of yourself to hear, all tied up in a bow made of his velvet kisses upon your silk skin, have become a punishment meant to torment a child who'd dared to play with a toy that was never hers to touch in the first place.

all hope of redemption is lost with the tightening of his hold.

muscles flex beneath the red of his sleeves, an unspoken promise of the strength he harbours, the brute force he’d be more than willing to use should someone aim to take you from his hold. what follows is a resounding silence, where you’re too shaken to speak and his head rests it’s weight on your shoulder, the near-white crown of his head staring back at you in the mirror as it blends with the white of your gown. he burrows his face into the spot where your neck meets your shoulders, hiding whatever broken, troubled, pathetic- his own word for sad- expression paints his features.

“i thought you would wait for me.”

and just like that, the illusion is shattered, an accusatory tone to his voice which leaves behind nothing of the false sense of bliss or the hopeful future but jagged shards scattered along the ground, threatening to split your skin and make you bleed should you dare to clean it up.

“how could i, prince daemon?” the anger works its way through the cracks in your broken heart, taking up the space you’d once reserved for tears and forgiveness. “you left. no words, no warning, no goodbye. my loyalty is with my father and my house, and therefore marrying to secure a fruitful alliance for said house comes above all, even petty little princes.”

“i was banished! by my own brother! by your own-” he halts the words before he can speak them. though the dragon in him is awakening- the slightest of conflict rousing the ugly defensive side of him-, he stubbornly holds his position, eyes squeezing shut a little tighter to fight out the light of reality he’s trying to evade. “and now here i return to find the one person i came back for could not wait a measly three years for me!”

“if you think i’ve waited only three years for you, you’re an even greater fool than otto hightower.”

the prince tenses, the mention of his sworn nemesis (a feat which had earned him plenty a mockery on your end, forever bereft at the fact a supposed grown man could live with a near-playground level of hatred for another) causing the fire within him to grow more violent. he unwinds himself from the hold he’s got on you, arms dropping to his side and face rising from it’s hiding spot within your skin. in the mirror, he looms over you, staring down at you like he’s the red wyrm and you are but a helpless doe moments away from having your flesh burnt by his fire.

“forgive me, lady y/n,” the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention as darkness overcomes his voice, matching the expression on his face. “i wasn’t aware of how deep your loyalty ran for you to whore yourself out so easily for some lord’s name and gold.”

with the twist of an ankle, you come face to face with the dragon prince, chest heaving with each laboured breath which fails to calm your nerves and nose blowing out what you imagine to be the steam of your fiery anger. you stagger back, he leans forward. hands land on your elbows and steady you, draw you nearer till the mounds of your breasts brush against his cloth-covered chest.

daemon is stunned to silence, a rare feat, as he gazes down at you and sees not the woman who’s wrapped up in white lace but the girl who’d been covered in tears and carried fear in her eyes as she took in the sight of the man she’d crashed into- quite literally, as he’d enjoyed reminding you whenever you had gotten a little too generous with the wine and led yourself down the path of unadulterated reminiscing in his chambers- in the halls of the keep. he remembers how it felt to truly look upon your face for the first time, to be lulled into a sedated state just by hearing your soft voice stuttering out apologies, to part ways from you with hands still burning from the heat of your flesh, refusing to cool down even as he sat among the small council, too busy clenching his fists and questioning what exactly was so bewitching about the maiden he’d caught in distress.

a sharp sting to his cheek is enough to shatter the memory, bringing him out of the looking glass of the past and into the present where your eyes are filled with more disgust than tears and the burn of your flesh is against his face instead of his hands.

you’d slapped him.

by gods, you’d actually struck him.

if the circumstances called for it, the prince wonders if his cock would be stiffening by now.

“you, of all people, have no right to call me a whore, lord fleabottom.”

“and yet i seem to recall you begging me to call you that during our past encounters.”

you grab at his collar, sharp nails digging into the dark material as if it were his windpipes, crushing them under your brutish strength. tugging him down with what you believe to be force- and what is truly just him giving into your attempt-, the pair of you find yourselves eye to eye, nose to nose, frown to frown.

oh, yes, his cock would certainly be hard, were his heart not so weak.

“you are a despicable excuse of a man.” you mean to spit the words in his face, praying to all the old gods and the new for this feeling to truly be hatred, disgust, disdain. three years have passed and, with it, so has your love, leaving a gapping hole meant only to be filled with hate. were it not for the shaking of your free hand, or the pounding of your heart in your ears, you’d believe your prayers had been answered. alas, the gods are cruel and your words fall only as a whisper on his ears. “i pity the women who have been scorned with loving you.”

“come now, my lady, you were always so against those who pitied themselves.”

“do you hear how pathetic you sound?” taken aback by his rebuttal, your response comes with a moments delay, one you hope he does not notice. the grin he casts down at you proves otherwise, and serves as yet another plank of dry wood tossed on to the blazing embers of your ire. “i am to be married come high noon, and you are already a married man! put aside your wants and realise your duty, perhaps then your king would not see it necessary to rid himself of you.”

“and what a marriage it’ll be, my lady! with your dearest lord cunt lannister parading you around as though you are some prized deer he’s caught for a feast, and you drowning yourself in riches and wines to forget the horrid memory of his red face above yours.” he matches your own grip on him, his far larger and far stronger hand shooting out to take a hold of you by the neck of your dress. he’s a brute, tugging on the expensive cottons like they are no more than the clothes of a common whore. “rumour has it your dear husband-to-be is one of those one-pump-chumps, so at the very least he’ll get it over with quickly, allowing you to roll over and bring yourself some satisfaction as his pathetic seed paints your thighs.”

“at least my marriage will be consummated!” daemon scoffs as quickly as the words have shot out your mouth, no harm coming from them, not with how many nights he’d spent in your sheets claiming he’d sooner fuck his own dragon than touch his so-called bronze bitch. the real kicker, the true spear through his pride, the thing you know only by rumour and not by fact, is what you say next. “meanwhile you’ll continue to chase pleasure in whores who look like me from the back, but just never quite sound, smell, taste, feel the same as i do.”

“keep talking and i’ll take it as an invitation to remind myself of just exactly how you feel.”

“if the recent rumours about you are true, my prince, i doubt you’ll be capable of getting your cock to rise for the occasion.”

silence takes hold of the little space between you. contemplation evident on his face, he straightens back up to his full height, eyes no longer at level with your own as they cast down a look which lacks all the sharp edges from before. no longer are his eyes daggers that threaten to slice through you but, instead, blankets of warmth and safety which ache to wrap around your tired bones and shield you from the cold which accompanies the feeling of solitude.

the hand which once held you by the top of your dress has traveled up the expanse of your neck, fingers soft and lazy in the way they stroke over the skin. before you even process your own actions, the grip you have on his own clothes loosens, till your hand is merely resting against the solid mass of his chest.

for the first time since the rogue prince had returned to the capital, victorious and wearing a crown, you allow yourself to take in the sight of him, wholly and unserved. you admire the shortened length of his hair, noting how it frames his face in a way that fully brings out its sharp edges. you trace over the new lines in his skin, unintentionally reminiscing on words you'd both exchanged between tangled limbs and the moonlight ( “they are a sign that i'm aging, sweetling.” “they are a sign that you've lived.”). you catch sight of mangled skin along his right side, peeking out from beneath his clothing. your heart clenches at the thought of him in pain, and you distract yourself from thinking of what other marks decorate his war-torn body by returning attention to his lilac eyes.

three years have passed since you had last held each other and, against your own wishes, your heart still remembers to beat harder around him.

“he will not love you.” the words are an exhale from him, like he's resigning you to your own fate.

“i do not need love.” the words you speak become the first lie you've ever told him, making even with the way he'd faked his smile earlier.

“then if not love, freedom. that cunt will not give you that." you aim to tear away from his piercing eyes, yet the force of his hand tilting your chin upwards gets in your way. he may have been at war, you think, but he's inflicting a greater torture upon you than any fallen soldier right now, imploring you to look upon his weakened state in a way he's never allowed before. "he will give you gold, and dresses, and dresses made of gold to occupy yourself with, but never freedom.”

“freedom is a fool’s game.”

“gaomā daor ȳdragon hae aōla.” you do not speak like yourself. this time, he does not prevent you from looking back at your own reflection. you wish to whine about how you do not look like yourself either, dressed in such a ridiculously white gown but don't in fear that he'll take it as invitation to slice through it with his dear dark sister. “what happened to the girl who used to make plans to see the world on dragon's back, to taste every wine, to be tied to no land?”

“she died somewhere between the first time you kissed her and six moons into your war for the stepstones.”

like the mirror were something akin to the mystical, future-telling balls you'd heard of in the stories of witches and seers, the memory of your first kiss plays out before you. you remember it all like it was merely yesterday. the way you'd at last bested him after the five moons of midnight training you'd endured. the way he lay frozen on the ground, eyes widened in a mixture of shock, irritation and pride. the way he'd marched over to you and sent thrilling chills of fear down your spine as you worried he aimed to scold you for daring to nick the right side of his cheek with your blade, drawing out blood. the way he'd ripped your weapon from your hand, thrown it off to some unseen part of the dark training grounds and proceeded to attack you. only, where you had expected raised fists and seething words, he gave bruising kisses and sighs of satisfaction, the victory of at last going against everyone else's supposed better judgement and giving into the carnal desires he'd tried to cast aside in favour of protecting your virtue in the eyes of the cunts that sat with himself and your own father at the small council.

and then, you blink and suddenly it is half a decade later and you're standing in those same dark, cold, training grounds, only this time the prince is nowhere in sight and you're hacking at a man made of straw, picturing the king's brother's face with every swing of the blade.

“most nights i barely knew if you were alive, daemon! any news of you was sparse, and never meant to fall upon my ears. were it not for rhaenyra serving as cupbearer for the council, overhearing the gossips that ensued in their meetings, i'd never have found out you'd gone to war in the first place. waiting for you to send a raven, or send at the very least a sign that you ached for me as much as i did you, it broke me. and, as i put the fractured pieces of myself back together, i found i was no longer the wide eyed fool you'd left me. i was no longer going to cry over a man who didn't respect me enough to let me know of his leaving.”

“how could i write you, my lady? was it not you who asked of me that our affairs be kept a private matter? i'd have thought our scandal was lesson enough for you to learn there are rats in every crevice of kingslanding. a single letter from me would have been your undoing.” the anger returns to his voice, though not so all-consuming this time around. behind your own reflection, you see him shifting around, body growing agitated with the need to do something, anything to expel the dark energy coursing through his veins. “we both know i have not once had an issue with making my affections for you known, it is you who was so scared to be branded as my mistress! so do not dare question my respect for you. everything you've wanted, i've given. anything you've asked of me, i've done. and it was still not enough to mark my claim on your heart.”

“why do you still not see my heart is not some land to be won?” if at any moment you pondered the possibility of the maids outside your chambers being aware of the reason behind daemon's current presence, the raising of your voice and the words you spit out at him must be enough to confirm any of their suspicions. you wonder which of them will be the one to spread the word, until it reaches your father's ears or- worse- your betrothed. “nyke daor mirri sombāzmion hen pryjata syt ao naejot hang bona jaes-forsaken bartōro hāre zaldrīzes banner iemnȳ.” i am not some castle of ruins for you to hang that god-forsaken three-headed dragon banner within.

if words were daggers, yours would have pierced through his darkened heart and twisted the blade. for there is nothing more prideful to a targaryen than their own bloodline- and many a nights you'd spent, sat at candlelight with the infamous conquest of aegon targaryen himself depicted to you in a written word, pondering if this grandiose sense of self is what lead to their customs of taking their own kin to wed-, the hot tempered prince being the greatest example of this, rumoured to have once made a eunuch of a man who dared to so little as roll his eyes as a young viserys targaryen passed by him in a brothel.

you feel him more than you see him move behind you, weight shifting from one leg to another and carrying the rustle of metals and leather with it. he's glaring at you through the reflective glass, mouth pressed shut in a straight line and hands clasped behind his back, as if holding them there is some way of holding off whatever thoughts he had of touching you with hands that had brought so many people to their end- his own wife being their latest victim.

several minutes of silence pass by before you realise he's weighing out his options, trying to choose what to say next. the rogue prince, known for his unmatched wit and possessing the ability to argue his way out of acts of war against his very own brother, is lost for words for a second time.

when the words come to him at last, you wish they'd disappear again.

“i am a proud man. i have fought, and lived, and fucked with fire and blood, so this will be the first and only time i will ask this of you.” you watch with baited breath and sweating palms as daemon's figure lowers itself behind you and, with no second thought to be found, you swirl around in your gown just in time to watch his right knee meet the floor, his other one positioned perfectly at a ninety-degree angle and holding his weight as he leans his arm against the muscular thigh. his head is tilted up, desperation dancing gracefully with the heartache in his eyes as his right hand finds comfort in tangling itself with your own, him relishing in your touch and you fighting so hard to forget each and every other time he'd held your hand so gently.

in an imitation of his return to king visery's graces, he's bowing for you as though it will win him back your favour and the warmth of your bed.

“do not make yourself a lannister, do not wed him. lady rhea royce is dead, there is nothing obstructing our path. we can make it to the dragonpit before anyone even notices you're gone, we'll be wed by sundown, i beg of you. kostilus, marizzo hen ñuha prūmia, mazverdagon nyke aōha valzȳrys.” please, owner of my heart, make me your husband.

it is a plea for so much more than your hand.

it is a plea for your life, a plea for your future, a plea for a world where you reside upon dragon's back and he resides anywhere that is by your side.

it is everything you've ever wanted to hear from him, coming into fruition in the worst way imaginable: dressed in a wedding gown meant for another man.

“skoro syt sir? skoro syt līs ao epagon bisa hen issa sir?” why now? why must you ask this of me now? you pull in a breath and push out a sob, eyes welling with unshed tears as you force yourself to rip away from his lilac irises to find safety in staring up at the cold, unfeeling ceiling. “skoro syt daor skori nyke istan nykeēdrosa dāez naejot vestragon kessa?” why not when i was still free to say yes?

before he can fumble out a response, the door to your chambers reopens.

unlike before, it truly is dorothea this time.

“my lady,” she looks past the prince on his knees as though she can not even see him, too committed to her loyalty for you to rub a greater amount of salt in the gaping wound upon your heart which is daemon targaryen. there is no doubt when believing she'd never utter a word of the scene she has walked in on. “we must make haste. the ceremony will commence shortly, and there can be no wedding without a bride.”

the grip on your hand grows tighter, a silent plea from daemon to get you to look at him again, to see him for all that he may be- a man made of untamed disrespect, a tally of war crimes, blood of the so called dragon seed and, above all else, love for you- and take him as your own.

it makes it an even greater battle when you force your aching body to pull away from him, hands patting down the creases in your dress one last time before making your way over to the door.

this time around, it is you who leaves daemon a mess on your chambers' floor, kneeling there till his knees ache and the wedding bells have long ago rang out.

#daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon smut #lmao the description of this fic is so misleading.. it's basically click bait i'm so sorry 🥴

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charlotlie · 1 year

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i’m procrastinating studying for my finals & ive been on marauders & aftg tiktok for too long so here it is: my take on the aftg characters as taylor swift songs

- neil: you’re on your own kid (the neil josten anthem, especially the bridge), getaway car (I SWEAR IM NOT TRYING TO BE FUNNY), snow on the beach (tbh i always see this as an andreil song, but it’s just like: neil had never expected to fall for andrew or even trust him in the beginning, so the fact that they’re even falling? fucking weird. also, the line, “you wanting me, tonight, feels impossible” like the idea of someone wanting to touch him without wanting to hurt him ahshajsgs)

- andrew: daylight (just listen), anti-hero (this could very well apply to all the foxes, but the line, “i wake up screaming from dreaming // one day i’ll watch as you’re leaving // cause you got tired of my scheming” seems to be his perspective on nearly all of his relationships), evermore (for me, this song is largely about depression and, tbh, i’ve been reading too many andrew character studies lately, and “that this pain would be for evermore” hurts SO bad when you’re thinking about him. then the song develops, and ends with, maybe this pain isn’t forever. im gonna write a fic on this i swear.)

- aaron: delicate (“my reputation’s never been worse so, you must like me for me” him & katelyn after the whole drake incident im crying so hard😭😭)

- nicky: paper rings (him & erik 🤭, like they are the cute love songs in my head)

- dan: the man, gorgeous (so like,,, dan didn’t like matt at first, right? was annoyed at him a lot, didn’t think he was all that — so she was also very annoyed when she started noticing him and liking him and kinda being attracted to him so i just imagine this song as dan’s drunken confession to matt about how frustrated she is with him and matt’s just smiling at her and it makes her even more frustrated bcs how is he so pretty), sweet nothing

- matt: lover (“and at every table.. i’ll save you a seat, loveeeeer” asfgsgsgs), king of my heart (“and we rule the kingdom inside my room” —> i so imagine dan and matt having the stupidest fun with each other and that feels like listening to this song, like you’re not really part of the inside joke. also, dan is definitely the queen of matt’s heart :))

- allison: the last great american dynasty (she had a marvellous time ruining everything), i know places (headcanon: after renee confesses to her, they slip away for a weekend to just be with the two of them to hide themselves away from everyone else for now), i wish you would (about seth, in this case.)

- renee: new romantics (she could build a castle from all the bricks they threw at her), peace (about how the danger lives in her, how she can never truly bring peace because she doesn’t feel like she can, but still “would it be enough, if i could never give you peace?” she hopes to be enough and tries to make up for her past by caring 4 others ajahhshshs i love her sm), dress (“i don’t want you like a best friend” her confession to allison please 😫)

- kevin: right where you left me (kevin day, the epitome of the freeze ptsd response, always stuck where he in where he was), the great war (“there’s no morning glory, it was war, it wasn’t fair” makes me think of him and jean after riko died)

- jean: epiphany (listen to this while thinking of him istg im crying), exile (“you’re not my hometown anymore, so what am i defending?” about kevin😭), gold rush (jerejean conflict so good, i need new fics)

#andreil #jerejean #aftg #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #kevin day #aftg shitpost #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #renison #matt boyd #jean moreau #seth gordon #aftg foxes #aftg headcanon

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pidgecv · 6 months

Text

pre-bed thought dump so i can actually sleep without too many thought swirling around and clogging up my brain (my friends r all asleep so i can’t spam them instead 😔)

i miss turtle posting btw i’ve decided to do more turtle posting again (probs starting tomorrow w some sketches i’ve been hoarding or smth)

man my tumblr activity graph is gonna be wack anyways i finished reading orv, cried a few times, i’m emotionally devastated but at least FINALLY the boy is implied to be back. I have dnd at 9:30am and i have NOT told my parents (worse case i’ll walk there) yet i am. so tired. but my brain is zooming. i can not read very well. but my brain is ZOOMING.

here is a collection of some of my fav late orv chapters (a lot of them aren’t included bc i got tired of taking screenshots every damn chapter istg) ((also i read most of the novel ages ago now so this is from my recent “so the nightmare begins again” bout of hyperfixation))

i think i saved a fuck ton of lines i liked from some of the earlier chapters on my ipad but i don’t think i set my ipad to nightlight earlier and i’m not up for getting blue light biden blasted rn

i’ll go back to turtle posting pretty soon i think since last time i hyperfixated on orv i speedran the stages of hyperfixation and this time i’m even out of novel to read. i have reached my very own conclusion. my phone is lagging to hell when i type it’s taking my letters around a second to appear on the screen but i’m not exactly typing any slower so it backlogs and i can just sit there and watch the words be typed if i go fast enough lollll.

i’ve gotta draw raph in my au man. i gotta make him interesting bc i love him he is literally wonderful i just really suck at drawing him and leo bc rise is an artstyle that’s a total 180 from the stuff i’ve drawn previously. i continue to amass more art styles, soon no one will be safe. I just want to do them justice. they’re not the main character but they’re important and i feel bad for not fleshing them out well yet. i want to write them well and i want to write them with importance. i want every character i write to be with a purpose. to have potential for their own stories. i don’t want them to be hollow side characters, and the first step to achieving that is giving them designs i love. i love to look at and draw. i’ve achieved that with donnie and mikey and i’m starting to with leo but i’m so intimidated by raph because as important as he is as a character to the story i want to write he is by far the hardest for me to draw in the way that i think fits. in the way that i want. because i know what i want in his design and character, but i can’t quite get it right in the context of the artstyle i want to draw my au in. might have to bend some of the stylistic rules i set for myself to get him to work unfortunately.

#cvsays

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onlyswan · 1 year

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hello! tulip anonie came back from the dead 🪦

i’ve just been catching up on your posts and why am i seeing people saying you’re leaving?!? 😭 but i’m so glad you clarified that you just need a break and i’m so sorry you have to go through that my love ♡ i just want to say if you really need a break then take it. you don’t have to write anything, and you don’t owe anyone anything. i think sometimes a slump is what we need to make us feel the yearning to do something that we love again because we’ll miss it eventually.

i guess may was a rough month for everyone. take your time to do selfcare for a whole week because may was an ass and i -too- wanna kick it in the butt for being the toughest and longest month so far. i know the ‘lack’ of interaction / appreciation for your writings lately can be discouraging and i totally get that. like sometimes it can feel as if a negative comment would be better than nothing, because at least ‘someone is acknowledging something that i made’. but i’m so happy so many people came to give you the love and support and it proves that you’re so loved and appreciated because your works really helped people to find comfort and have a peaceful time even just for 10 minutes of their (mine too) 24 hour long and tiring day.

oooh… and i want to tell you about a bit of my life lately… remember that i was going to yoongi’s concert and it was my first ever concert and you told me to forget everything except my ticket and powerbank? yea… my powerbank broke and i had to borrow this lovely lady’s 💀 i got a vip soundcheck and practically a barricade 🥹 i still can’t believe i got to see 1 of 7 of them right in front of my eyes 😭 i had so much fun and as an introvert -i hate crowded places so much and meeting so many people makes me anxious- i never thought i’d love concert as much as i did! but i’ll give it to yoongi and the lovely people i met, army 🫶🏻 because they’re the nicest people on earth istg. talking with armies online is so nice, but meeting so much of them in real life was soooo much better. the whole time i saw them, my brain just went “wow… we really love the same person / band huh. the tannies are so loved. i love it here”. speaking of concert… i got tickets for coldplay too! 😭praying that they will perform my univers live 🕯️🪐✨

and here we are in june! let’s have fun with tannies because it’s our month! i started this month still with a neverending college final project *booing and throwing tomatoes*. but i’m so happy because i finally found the type of pencil i’ve been searching for soooo long that i got out of my year long drawing slump… and i’ve been practicing again with drawing jungkook’s nose because i love it so much and i wanna *boop* it. and as i was sketching, i was watching the festa livestreams the whole day. a therapeutic experience :’] i miss them soooo much ❤️‍🩹

as i’m writing this, i’m eating unripe mangoes with salt and chili. reminds me of that drabble where jungkook, his abs, and oc went on a beach vacation ♡ OH! and the latest drabble!! i wanna be loved that way sooooo bad 🥲 and so steamy😮‍💨 and the bathtub scene… oh artemis i love how you can always always make the most out of the very intimate places in the house of lovers… the kitchen, the bedroom, and the bathroom. EVEN THE WALK IN CLOSET FFS. it’s just how good you are with what you do and you use your heart to dictate the words to your fingers.

buuut how are you feeling now? how are you doing? you can vent if you want to, i’m all ears! i hope good things happen ♡ have a great day artemis!

-🌷

hello my tulip anonie! i missed you so much! aghhh you got to see yoongi so close?!?!? i’m so happy 🥹 you deserve it so much !!!! 🥹 and thank god the lovely lady let you borrow their powerbank lmaooo. so nice to hear you had a wonderful experience at your first concert :") hopefully it’s the same for the next one too! coldplay is amazing!

and omg you draw??? you’re so cool <3 jungkook’s nose is my favorite nose ever if i was an artist i’d totally spend all my time practicing how to draw it. hehe

stop now i’m craving for mangoes 🫢 and maybe a jungkook. the latest drabble!! the bathtub scene… rips me to shreds when i think about it until now tbh. every room, no matter how small, can hold an eternity of memories 🥺 i guess is what i’m trying to say.

thank you so much for your understanding and endless love my beloved <3 life has just not been very kind, like everything that can go wrong is going wrong? i’m ok with challenges, but maybe only one at a time? 🤣 but you’re right! hopefully june will be a better month. with festa and pride month, i think we deserve that much !! hopefully i get to finish the next drabble soon too, which actually been helping me release my heartache little by little <3 i hope you have an amazing week my love! ☁️

#🌷 anonie

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driaswrld · 6 months

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i feel that you’ve def had a haikyuu or mha phase at a point (haven’t we all LMAO 😭) or maybe a boy band phase? (bts, mcr, one direction) 🫣🫣

also how have u been?? i’ve been so tired lately so i haven’t been sending asks but i hope ur doing good girlie <33 about to catch up on ur posts

- 💌

i was balls deep in haikyuu and mha istg. i used to write fics for them on my old blog! ngl i might be heading straight back into those fandoms bc ive been reading more fics ab them

bokuto has always been my beefy boyfie, oikawa is the only one who could compete bcus hes just sooo pretty!

n for mha i love love lovee shinso sm like,,,, hes sleep deprived AND has purple hair what more can i want??? but ngl i was a todoroki girlie at one point too (natsuo altered my brain chemistry.)

....and yes boy band phases hit me in waves at diff intervals in my life i fear

i've been doing better!! and also you should get some rest ml <33 (you haven't missed much tho since i've barely posted 😭)

send me an assumption you have abt me

#★ STVRTLK #💌 ¡ anon

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atsushigre · 3 years

Text

stay over

pairing: hawks x reader

summary: after a long day of hero work keigo finds himself on your roof. again.

wc: 2183

a/n: hello again everyone it is i, hazel, back at it again with More Hawks Content. i’ve had this one done for a while and genuinely forgot about it lmao but istg next time i will write about a different character. anyway enjoy!!

everything feels….weird, without his wings. logically he knows that the feathers will grow back, but two days is a long time to be grounded for someone like keigo, so used to taking to the skies. he feels almost naked without the wings at his back, once beautiful and grand and now reduced to nothing but lesser covert feathers for the foreseeable future. his hands sank deeper into his pockets as he hunched further, trying to compensate for the lack of weight at his back as he made his way through the empty streets. the day was long, even for a hero like him, and between the fight with the nomus that left him grounded to the tense words he’d shared with dabi moments ago, he was just about ready to speed home and call it quits. though he couldn’t help the feeling of wrongness that was eating at him even still, annoyance rising in him as he tried to place exactly what it was making him feel this off. a gloved hand rose up to rest on his face, finger tapping on his chin in concentration as he sank deeper into thought. all in all, despite the overall frankly terrible atmosphere of the day, objectively speaking, things could have gone worse. way worse. he’d even managed to save all those people, scraping through the afternoon with a grand total of zero casualties, and even the mild to severe annoyance he’s feeling over a spontaneous transformation to flightless bird will dissipate in a day or two, so what could it be that’s got him all twisted up thinking about it?

oh. right. you.

his feet came to a stop almost on their own, and as he craned his head upwards he couldn’t help the small twitch of his lips into a smile as he came face to face with not his own high rise, but your apartment complex. a tad bit run down, smack dab in the middle of his patrol zone, and oh so familiar. see, pretty much every night for the past four (five? he’d almost lost track) months he’d found himself perched on the roof of this very building, takeout from the restaurant across the street in hand (what could he say? he was a busy guy and their fried chicken was to DIE for) taking a quick break to scarf down some dinner before he took to the skies again. it was convenient, centrally located, and, well, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t also come with good company. it had seemed he wasn’t the only one fond of spending his nights up on that rooftop, as nearly every time he’d found his way up there in recent history he’d been met by you, busying yourself with one thing or another, and over the time you’d shared together he’d actually become quite fond of you and the snippets of (near) normalcy you provided. after all, with such a chaotic schedule like his, breaks were few and far between, and it was nice to be able to sit and just be for a while.

boots touched down on the roof of the ratty apartment building, and the flapping of wings slowly died down, the rustling of feathers and clothing slowly stilling as the whipping wind dissipated. his whistling cut clean through the still night, and he couldn’t help but let the chuckle escape him as he heard a startled noise come from the center of the shoddy rooftop garden. the scratching of a chair on cement echoed as you padded out into his field of view.

in slight disarray (as always) you made your way over to him, a contented grin on your face and cradling your laptop to your chest. he raised his hand into a two fingered salute, hopping off the ledge of the rooftop to meet you in your advance.

“you’re a bit late today,” you giggled as you gratefully accepted the drink he’d held out to you, setting your laptop down so you could take a seat next to him. your gaze followed him as he shuffled his meal around in his lap, and you watched as he chuckled and shook his head, directing his gaze up towards you.

“sorry bout that, kid. all the villains in town ganged up and decided i’d be eating a late dinner today.” he gave himself a moment to stretch his tired wings, subconsciously curling them around the two of you as you sat, you with your legs dangling over the side of the building and he with his legs crossed, dinner in his lap. he’d rarely admit it, but the downside of all his speed was that quiet moments like these, and time to just take care of himself, came few and far between, which only led him to cherish the minutes you’d spent together even more.

he hadn’t meant to make an unlikely friend when he’d first landed on your building those months ago; honestly, he’d just wanted five minutes to eat his chicken in peace. but he was so so tired and even though when he’d landed he’d found you star gazing, he’d decided it wasn’t damned worth it to find a new building to park himself and scarf down his dinner. this’d have to do. but you were cute and entertaining and non intrusive and he couldn’t help but leave with a bit of a light feeling in his chest, and subconsciously or not when he found his boots landing on your roof the next day, and the day after that, he never pulled himself away. he could let himself have this, fifteen minutes a day of peace.

“you alright?” you questioned, and he blinked out of his thoughts to meet your gaze, brows slightly furrowed and face pulled into a concerned expression. he chuckled with a nod, hand rubbing over his neck as he pushed his visor up and off his golden eyes, looking out over the city before his gaze flitted back to you.

“course. just thinkin, is all.” he gestures between the two of you, a small smile growing wider on his face. “just happy to have this.” he buried his face in the collar of his coat, light blush rising on his tanned cheeks as your delighted laugh rang clear in the night air. you bumped your shoulder against his, head tipping back to take in the night sky as your own smile cut wide and bright across your face.

“i’m happy to have this too.”

of course this was what was eating at him. he’d been so busy today, wrapped up in the hectic nature of his lifestyle that he hadn’t had a minute to his pause, and how could he take a break if it wasn’t here, right? he’d conditioned himself to associate the ratty brick building before his eyes with comfort and peace, and while he didn’t quite have time to unpack all of that he also didn’t have the patience to leave without getting what he came for, despite every bone in his body begging for a well-deserved nap. he pushed up on his feet, instinctually trying to propel himself into flight before he came crashing back down to reality. ah, right. flightless bird, for at least two days. how could he forget?

his glance strayed to the door, and then to the call box on the door, and in an instant, it dawned on him that he didn’t actually know what unit you resided in. he cracked his knuckles once, twice, pondering how to combat this predicament before his gaze landed on salvation, otherwise known as the fire escape.

with a running start he launched himself up to grab the ladder of the fire escape, burning muscles screaming in protest as he hauled himself up and onto the first level, metal clanking and disturbing the quiet evening atmosphere. with a huff he straightened himself out, straightening his ruffled clothing and beginning to climb the stairs before he heard a gasp, and moments later your worried face was peeking over the side of the building.

“hawks?” you cried, panic laced in your tone, and keigo perked up at your call, tired smile beginning to stretch over his face before it fell as he took in your panicked appearance.

“sorry i’m late, busy day today,” he sighed, and you scoffed, ripping a hand through your already disheveled hair, taking in his own appearance (and most notably, lack of wings.) a shaky sigh left your lips, and you quirked your head to the side as you leaned farther forward the edge.

“hawks, why are you on my fire escape?”

“couldn’t exactly fly up today, now could i?” he gestured to his empty back, and as he reached the final level of the fire escape you weakly held out your hand to help pull him up onto the roof, he waved it away, using the last of the energy in his fatigued body to launch himself to a position where he could finish his climb, hauling himself over the ledge and onto the hard cement of the rooftop. he leaned up against the ledge, and you kneeled down in front of him, hand ghosting up to land over his before hesitantly pulling away. you looked a wreck, eyes faintly rimmed in red and hair disheveled, a side effect of the frustrated raking of it away from your face, and the corner of his lip twitched upward as he drank you in. though his muscles were screaming and every part of him was tired, hauling himself here tonight was more than worth it.

“i saw what happened today, on the news. good job,” you weakly smiled, eyes darting around before finally landing on his. “i didn’t think you’d swing by today, given everything.”

“and yet here i am.”

“and yet here you are,” you sighed, finally allowing yourself to rest a hand on his upper arm. “you should be resting, not here. today was rough.”

“i am resting. here, right now. with you. well, for as long as you’ll have me, and then i’ll trudge my way home. or maybe i’ll call a cab, haven’t taken one of tho-” he began to ramble, before you cut him off.

“stay over.” his eyes widened slightly, and he fought the urge to tear his eyes away and tuck his face into his coat to hide from the gentle resolve in your gaze.

“pardon? sorry kid, don’t think i heard that quite right.”

“i said stay over. you’re tired, i was...worried, and you already went to the trouble of dragging yourself over here anyway. so stay over, and i’ll take care of you, and you can take off again tomorrow morning.” silence fell over the two of you as he mulled over your proposal, and if he noticed his heartbeat picking up at the prospect of staying the night he’d die before admitting it.

“well, when you put it like that, how could i refuse?” you sighed, shaking your head before outstretching your hand, hauling him up and digging through your pockets for your keys. your hand tightened around his and he went to pull away, and he tried to fight the grin splitting over his features as he laced his gloved fingers with yours. pulling him down a couple flights of steps, making sure the hallways were empty (you’d die before you had to explain what you were doing dragging number 2 pro hero hawks through the hallways of your complex this late at night) before pulling him into your tiny apartment. it was nothing to write home about (and honestly, secretly, you were a little embarrassed now that you had hawks standing inside your tiny, messy apartment. but he was tired, and so were you, so you could be embarrassed tomorrow.)

“i’ll get you set up,” you said, disappearing into the bedroom and giving him time to take in the (slightly) chaotic surroundings. despite the chaos, he couldn’t deny that it was wholly you, and he couldn’t help the glee bubbling up in his stomach as he took in the surroundings. you emerged a few moments later, blankets and pillow in hand, and that warm feeling spreading through his body only got warmer as he watched you set the couch up for him.

“if you need anything let me know,” you smiled, hand resting gently on his arm. he met your gaze with a grin, and as he settled into his makeshift bed for the evening he could feel your gaze on him from the doorway of your bedroom for a few moments, but when he cracked one eye open to look at you you had already disappeared, shutting the door gently behind you.

he settled back onto the couch, tucking himself into the comfort the space around him provided. and, if a few hours later, his sleep-addled mind felt a hand card through his hair once or twice, his blanket get readjusted, and a soft kiss pressed to his forehead, well, he’d just have to chalk it up to a dream.

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reddeadreference · 2 years

Text

Blog Progress Update (Travel Blog Style #19)

Drafts 75 - Queue 21

I’m very slowly filling the queue. I’m almost done with Scarlett Meadows locations.

This update has a lot of photos which is why it’s got a “read more” cause it got long.

On our quest for Orchids Arthur runs into a kid missing a dog in Strawberry… now I remember a kid missing a dog in Emerald Ranch… and I remember bad things happening… this better not be the same thing. Weird how this kid lives at the same house Skinny lived in… YAY HAPPY ENDING!

Looking for orchids again and OMFG I’ve never just randomly seen nite folk in the woods without it being an ambush. Two guys were walking away from a dead body on the edge of the water (that had predator bait on it, wtf). One had a torch the other a bow.

On the last exotic quest and I’m headin back to camp cause the sparrow and dragon flowers are up there. Not once this playthrough has someone come for Arthur when he spends WEEKS away from camp (nor has anyone broken me out of jail… all the stuff he does for this gang and nothing.… come on guys..).

Pearson… you’re telling me 99 bird meat wasn’t enough?

HA! Micah was about to talk to me, Arthur coughed a bit as he walked over BUT I got to the shave station and Micah walked away!

(WHY IS ABIGAIL SO DANG PRETTY T_T)

So I’m leaving camp, sayin good morning to Charles as I go… and I see the red of an enemy on my mini map… and my controller starts flashing red and white… go to the map and there’s two fucking bounty hunters to the right of camp, I’m going to the left… ISTG if it says I led enemies to camp I’m gonna scream. They’re heading in my direction… they’re gonna go THROUGH camp… FUUU-

(I realized way too late I should have gotten more photos of Arthur picking flowers...)

Ran into the Feral Man for the third time so I followed him back, didn’t know you could “greet” the wolves (Arthur just says “looks like I’m intruding” in a nervous tone and immediately they attack). Got the photos of the journal and went to reloaded a previous save because I felt bad… but i somehow didn’t save even though I remember saving… and I’m not spending another hour looking for flowers X.x Sorry Wolf man..

Last flowers to get are back in the bayou. It’s night. I don’t have my headphones on. I’m asking for death.

Case in point a gator watching me admire a flower...

White dot behind me, turn and 4 fucking nite folk running at me with various blades. JFC, always have your headphones on OR don’t fucking go into the bayou at night!

I FORGOT THE PEARLS ON THE GUN WERE FROM TAHITI! XD

“Have you been?”

“Nearly…”

Omg Arthur’s lil “whoa..” at the hat was so cute! He actually likes it!

Now for a wash, a nap, a shave and a new outfit for the hat.

Voila~ (I couldn’t pick a shirt.. also I’m sorry this is chapter 6 Arthur so he looks so tired... T-T)

Okay now I’m working on getting more Lemoyne stuff into the queue. Went by Hill Haven Ranch to retake photos of Face Rock.. and apparently ... the house has an inside… I can take pictures… I need to come back at night because the man may or may not have recognized Arthur from that night with Uncle…

Camped out til night....

On my way there I got distracted by the stars… I wish real life had stars like this… damn light pollution… (I REALLY love how this photo looks =D)

FORGOT ABOUT THE DOG

… okay… I saved… I’m gonna have to do some things Arthur wouldn’t agree with.. HOGTIE FASTER!

So I’m in the house.. Wondering why out of the three ranchers none of them looked like the guy from earlier… then I’m in camera mode and find him…oddly enough he’s not marked as an enemy… he’s an X… dude you’re just hogtied, chill..

Ooooo~ The past 10 minutes were all a dream~ ooooo~

Also look at this bird I found on Deer Cottage when I was over there ^_^

(Western filter)

Also also (last one I swear) I really like this crane(?) photo I took

(it was kinda far away so I had to zoom via lens)

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 photo mode #Arthur Morgan #abigail roberts #blog progress update

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milkybunbuns · 3 years

Text

a s/o who stays up late to game

w/ kenma, sugawara, atsumu + akaashi

w/c: 755

warnings: minor swearing

He invites you to play video games with him at like 2am and you guys are just gaming away in his room. He really don’t care that he had practise tomorrow and is honestly glad he has a partner to accompany him in gaming throughout the early hours of the day. But he ends up kinda feeling bad for you cause he doesn’t want you to fail in school, because this guy knows he can be tired in class and still learn but you? Nope. That’s just not how it works.

So at like 4am he tells you off for staying up too long

“Kenmaaa but you’re still playing!!”

“I can focus in class with minimal sleep, can you?”

“Yeah I can, don’t underestimate me >:(”

“Remember what happened last time...”

“I’ve gotten better at no sleeping though :((”

You do a lil pouty face and he gives in, telling you not to blame him when you fail your classes

And according to his prediction, you do end up failing your test which happened to be the day after. Did you learn ur lesson? No. Did you still stay up playing video games? Yes.

OKAY U R NOT ALLOWED TO STAY UP PAST 9. OKAY? NOT ON SUGA’S WATCH NU UH.

But he’s at a training camp, which meanssss he can’t tell you off for staying up late since he won’t even know

And you’re just up playing video games waaaay past your bed time when you get a call from someone. To busy with your game, you didn’t realise you had declined Suga. Oh but oh ho ho did he realise something, you were obviously still awake, how else did u heckin smack that decline button in da face. And ur audacity to decline your sweet boyfiee >:(

He vry angry and concerned, spams your phone until u pick up and when u lift tat phone to ur ears

istg ur ears burst

like really

mom be screeching

Suga was outside of the building so he doesn’t disturb anyone else

Oh and you got a lecture literally until the crack of dawn which was when u fell asleep and soon, Suga realised you had fallen asleep, smiling softly to himself and hanging up

Already knows how u always stay up late cause he can see the light on in ur room across the building when he goes in the middle of the night for a toilet break. Would stop u from playing on those rare occasions when he’s still awake by throwing a rock at ur window. u told him to not do it incase the window broke, but did this man-child listen? na.

So now you just keep the windows open and it just happens to be that u always straight within fire range of his rocks and ur almost 100% sure you have over 10 bruises on ur body from the rock throwing. I mean, u gotta always sacrifice one thing for another

And no matter how much u tell him off, it just doesn’t get through that thick skull of his sighhh

Loves it when u stay up because you’ll be all sleepy during the day and he can (if he’s feeling nice) do all those cute couple things to you or if he’s feeling mean (6 days a week) he’ll prank u while u sleep uvu

You did a very good job at keeping ur activity at 2am under wraps so Akaashi never had any clue about it uwu ✨

wellll untilllllllll u got sick one day and akaashi was staying over at ur house to take care of u

and maaaaaaybbeeeee u shouldnt have been such a risky dare devil, playing video games with headphones plugged in as Akaashi slept quietly beside you

You had your phone in ur hand playing some game and silently seethed when u had lost, kicking ur legs wildly in rage and Akaashi woke up, stretching his arms and in the process pulling out the wire attaching ur headphones to ur phone

Then came the loud sounds of the game, startling him awake, well hecc, there was no way out of this, you would have to suffer the consequences :((

Akaashi confiscated ur phone cause u weren’t responsibleee enough smh and told u to go back to bed

And ever since that day u had to hand over ur phone to Akaashi straight before bed, but don’t worry, you had other devices to play on and our fellow mom here never found out 👌

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junhuiste · 3 years

Text

break the code (ex-wip)

pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader

wc: 1900

tags/warning: basketball!soonyoung, college au, slightly suggestive language, cursing

a/n: this was something i started way back in 2017 when i was 15 lol and i tried going back to it and finishing but i just can’t seem to continue it!! but i don’t want it to just sit in my drafts so i’m just going to post the unfinished wip! i might do this with a lot of wips i’ve had collecting dust over the years (and they’re like 99% svt lol); if i ever do find some stroke of inspo to finish it i might but for now enjoy the 1900 words i wrote when i was a sophomore

“But babe, you’ll sit on my side, right?” Soonyoung continued to pester you with countless little questions to which he knew the exact answers to.

You pursed your lips at your boyfriend; mild sorrow and guilt clouded your eyes. In return he pout your favorite pair of plush pillows to kiss, with dull bleakness and dismals fogging his irises. It was hard, really, to resist the pull of a magnet, who was trying every trick in the book to coerce you to sit on his school’s side of the bleachers for the upcoming basketball game on Friday.

Had it been that both of you were just your run-of-the-mill university couple, tachycardia would’ve caused you to blurt out “yes” instantaneously just by being gazed upon by Soonyoung, but alas, the big guy upstairs made it to be so that you technically couldn’t through the rulebook of the sibling code.

A flushed palm extended to your denim-covered thighs, with the utmost desire lacing his fingers.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” His digits creeped towards your inner thigh, getting closer to the actual cherry he wanted on top.

“Soonyoung, no matter how well you do me, I’m still obligated to sit on my side of the bleachers.”

None of Soonyoung’s coercions could persuade you to decide about where to sit. You really would’ve preferred to sit on his side, but with your current situation, none of that was possible. It was a precarious oscillation between blood and water, and neither did you want to drown in with regret for embracing one over another.

“Fine. If you can’t cheer me on–which is a pitiful shame–let me take you out to eat after the game. And we can make out in my car or something so he won’t have to know.” Soonyoung’s gaze no longer held flashes of fervor, but rather a decadent gleam of sheer admiration.

“It’s a done deal, but you better promise me to dunk on him, or be prepared to get dunked on by him. As of right now, however, you owe me some kisses for making me wobble continuously back and forth between your side and his before I go,” you taunted, “come here you little rascal.”

Soonyoung gleamed at you piercingly, yielding you to lean forward against him as a shock of joy sparked up your back. His hand feathered along the back of your thigh, brushing it so longingly, with a tinge of impertinence here and there. You could feel the urgency radiating from him as he struggled to press you even closer to him, as there were no more gaps to be filled. He grasped your chin gingerly, before connecting his lips with yours, wanting to revel in dire coalescence he’d been awaiting upon your arrival.

Soonyoung is the warm bath you dip yourself into after constant exhaustion, the meager yet compelling and needed breeze as the sun beats down you, the red mark that’s actually relieving and boasts “A+” on a hard worked assignment, the last basket shot as the clock dashes away with the snickering seconds, and he is what has you torn on where your loyalty stands, but you can’t thank him enough for that strife.

You pulled away first because getting you two to separate would be a long ass haul, and maybe it was also getting late, just maybe. Your eyes glimpsed at the badgering hands that indicated 11:35 PM, and nothing but a sullen sigh managed to escape your lips.

It wasn’t fair, how time sashayed away, but there were no seconds left to spare to sulk about it, so you caressed the tranquility Soonyoung’s face possessed and left a lingering peck upon it. Knowing him, you’d expected him to grip your waist and pull you down with him into the waters of his joyous yet yearning ways but the coal haired boy enveloped you in an enticing embrace and with his lips hovering slightly above your ear, whispered, “Tell him to get ready.”

“I swear to God, I hate basketball,” your brother exhaled out in utter annoyance, to which you furrowed your brows at.

You always shifted in your seat restlessly, your heart palpitating at an ungodly speed of McQueen, eyes sought frantically to avoid meeting your brother’s, upon the dreaded word of “basketball” ringing in your ears. It wasn’t that you abhorred it, no, not at all; you absolutely appreciated the art of dunking and the pleasing note of swish through the hoop, but just not the people you knew personally who partook in it.

There’s always a Montague and Capulet narrative happening somewhere in the universe, always, and it just so happened that you were struck with the curse by some godforsaken entity of destiny of landing a role in your life as the fresh faced, ever so naive, youngest member of the Capulets–Juliet. And you dreaded the direction your supposed fairytale was headed the first time your boyfriend asked you to watch his basketball game, which oddly enough, was the same one your brother requested you to “bring all your hot friends” to.

As strange as it sounded, it wasn’t your brother’s undeniable libido for your friends that irked you and made you hesitate going to a basketball game, to which you’ve never thought twice about before, but it was the statement of, “God I am going to crush number 10’s ass.”

Number 10. Number fucking 10. Of course, it had to be the player that sweat through blue polyester and nylon, donning number 10 in white on the front and back. It could have been player number 13 or 17, for God’s sake it could have even been a negative number sported on the jersey, yet it all had to align in the cosmos to be player number 10.

You didn’t certainly deem ESP to be something legitimate, but on that day you swore to god your mind fucked you royally in the ass and placed you in Soonyoung’s dorm room the night before. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing but the sight of a teenage boy’s niche, because a lot of basketball players had to have chosen the number 10 for their jersey, right?

The environment malfunctioned instantaneously with the repetition of “I am going to crush number 10’s ass” circling about a short circuit in your mind. From that moment onward, the sight of the jersey was unquestionably more radiant that it could have ever been, with the blinding, white number ten atop Soonyoung’s chair cackling obstreperously at your oh shit moment. Tuning in to your brother slander your university’s rival, Soonyoung’s school, was always such a joy (not) to participate in.

Every “basketball” here and there snagged you by the ear and dragged you to hell and back with it, provoking the cracks of your palm to drench in sweat and legs to quiver more than you had felt around Soonyoung before dating him.

“Yeah I mean it’s not like you’ve worked your entire ass off the past 4 years or so to even set foot on the college court you've been dreaming of since you were 13!” Diverting your brother’s mental debate on his love of the sport, it was a necessity to pluck something else from thin air to talk about, and not your school’s rival when they had games against each other, which was seemingly a bloodbath in their perspective.

Trying to escape your brother’s trash talk of Soonyoung’s team was walking through an eternal, pitch black, underground tunnel, no goddamn escape.

“They only got us last time because of number 10’s foolery. Jesus Christ, the kid better slow down or he’s wasting stamina. Can’t believe he holds the title of captain, like me. I motherfucking swear to God if I have to listen to his loud ass winning chant–” yadah yadah, number 10 this, number 10 that.

You would have dozed off to your brother’s lovely lullaby of scorn towards your boyfriend had it not been for a text…from your boyfriend.

[spoonyoung]

hii hiiiii heyyyy hello bby Hhhii babe i miss youuuuu hi!

[y/n]

i can tell u’re tired :( don’t be

[spoonyoung]

he's going to crush me dang flabbit

y/n

so ur nervous ??? bby it’s just a game istg,,both of you treat it like warfare

[incoming call: spoonyoung]

Shit, what the hell? This bitch, right now? In this economy, at this time?

Inside your chest was a drumline pounding, giving it their all, threatening to burst out and announce to your brother that “Hey, your rival is dating your sister! They’re probably going to fuck later but you don’t know about any of it!”

You would plummet into poignancy if you didn’t pick up his call, because there was no chance you could see him everyday, so honestly fuck that you guys attended different schools, and resorting to calling each other did bring both of you to ease, but not at this goddamn, forsaken time, with one you love phoning you with 17,000 vibrations per second, and the other idiot you were practically forced to love, perched next to you, indignantly gripping the wheel with such force you couldn’t decide which one generated more turbulence within you.

Tensely clutching what was now a scorching piece of metal, you held it up conscientiously to your ear, and forced yourself to breathe out calmly and collectively. Every single mention, tidbit and strand, bob and fragment of Soonyoung that was mentioned around you when you were with your brother grabbed your trachea in its firm hold and forced the wind out of you.

“Hey, Hoshi,” you managed to choke out in a level headed manner.

Hoshi. That was what you and Soonyoung agreed to nickname him if you ever picked up a call from him around your brother or his teammates, but god forbid you were actually allowed to have a life of any sort!

“Babe,” Soonyoung mewled out from the other line, “I actually can’t do this. Don’t tell him, but your brother is really good...of course he is.”

Frowning because of Soonyoung’s lack of usual mirth and brimming confidence, you sighed, “If you let it get to you, then your thoughts affect your actions, and you don’t want that to happen right? You’ll be fine...and I’m not just saying this to say something, but you’re really good too, and you can’t let one person bring your entire mood down...even if...you know…”

“Will you at least come with me to my dorm after the game?”

“Oh you know I’ll be doing more than that,” giggling into your phone, trying to sound as enticing as possible, completely engrossed in this very conversation, as it was all the time talking with Soonyoung.

Both of you had a habit of drastically turning your talks from upside downs to those of obvious elation. They were conversations sometimes needed to be kept in the comforting privacy, selfishly not wanting to let anyone else in on the baby i missed you’s and the do you need anything from the boba shop’s and literally you don’t have the right to look this good’s.

Startled by the grunting and hacking oh so wonderfully expired by the total jackass to your left, you contended to the third degree, with the patience that was never really there starting to thin out, “Do you need something?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Soonyoung to call coincidentally at the times you were with—more like right next to—his rival, probably because his

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #hoshi #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hoshi fluff

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wthzoe · 3 years

Text

a promise i’ll keep for each lifetime [erwin smith x reader]

words: 1403

living life as mrs. smith is nothing but a bliss. until you're met with the realization that your husband's days are numbered.

a/n: istg this is so bad. i lost sense of what i was writing around the end so i don’t know if anything about this makes sense anymore lmao. i actually planned it to be longer but my eyes are killing me and i wanted to get it out because i promised so here ya go!

Living life as Mrs. Smith has been nothing but bliss. A little ring on your middle finger symbolizing the love between you and your loving husband, Erwin. Yes, you were both aware that it was supposed to be on your ring finger but Hange had clumsily bought the incorrect size as Erwin was a bit too busy to buy it himself. It just so happens that Hange had an errand to run in the capital at the time. He offered to take it back and have it exchanged for the right size but you told him it was fine.

"I love everything about you as they normally are," you told him, to which he only smiled to before kissing your forehead tenderly.

Erwin was more than just a perfect husband; he is the perfect husband. Sure, spending time with him was a challenge due to both of your work- him being the commander and you being a section commander- but he always made an effort to make sure he has time together with you. Even going as far as merging your office with his so that you can both bask in each other's presence as you work, scribbles and shuffling of paper filling in the silence.

Living life as Mrs. Smith has been nothing but a bliss. Until you saw your husband's arm being bitten off by a titan during Eren's rescue operation. It took everything within you to not turn your horse around and run to him. It really did. But seeing his pleading eyes and stubborn yells to get every soldier to charge made you hold it together. You made up your mind to save Jaeger's ass then give Erwin a piece of your mind.

And you did exactly that. Well, you tried. But the tired look in his eyes and his now empty sleeve made you decide otherwise. Unable to stomach seeing him in such a condition, you turned around and spent the night at Hange's quarters instead. You felt bad for not being with Erwin when you knew he needed you most but you wanted time to pull yourself together, knowing that it'd break his heart even more to see you come undone in front of him.

The next day, you did your best to act as normal as you could. Nonchalantly apologizing for not being with him for the night. Avoiding looking at his arm without being obvious about it was proving to be difficult. Erwin could see your struggle, including the way you were trying so hard to hold back your tears. He could read you like an open book, you were his favourite book after all. He wordlessly grabbed your wrist when you stood up to get the two of you breakfast. He pulled you onto his lap and gently placed your head on his chest.

“You can cry, you know?” he whispered as he gently stroked your hair. His words worked on you like a spell, tears spilling out of your eyes immediately. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt as you sobbed into his chest.

You stayed like that for God knows how long, long enough to cry yourself to sleep it seems. When you woke up the sun was already setting and Erwin was fast asleep beside you. You propped yourself up on one elbow, admiring his features bathed in the orange hues of the sun. As you laid your hand on his cheek you were struck with a dreadful feeling. Your stomach lurched, your heart became erratic and your hands clammy against his skin. Emitting a gasp, you withdrew your hand as if you had burnt yourself on his skin. Still tired from the recent events, Erwin remained asleep. Something uncharacteristic of him as he was usually a light sleeper.

You curled up against his side as an attempt to calm yourself down, making sure that your skin was touching his in anyway possible. Only being slightly comforted when he wraps his arm around you. Just like that, you’ve been lulled back to sleep, opting to oversleep instead of letting yourself dwell in your emotions.

You thought you’d slept off the feeling that day but you were wrong. Everyday it feels like your intestines were being tied into knots, becoming uneasy whenever you Erwin was out of your sight. Everyone could see how anxious you’ve become the past few days but no one dared speak up about it. The once outgoing Section Commander Y/N grew quiet, often seen stressing about who knows what.

Erwin saw the change in you as clear as day, blaming himself for instilling such fear within you when all he ever wanted for you is perpetual happiness. His heart sinks whenever he sees the look on your face when he has to go on meetings without you. So, one night, as he cuddled you to his chest tightly, he asked the question you were hoping he didn’t.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked cautiously.

You hesitantly pulled your face away in order to face him properly. You knew you had to talk about it sooner or later so you didn’t bother avoiding his question. Tears started spilling from your eyes when you looked into his. Erwin rubbed your back to calm you down.

“Lately I…” you trailed off. “I’ve been having this feeling that- that my days with you are numbered, Erwin.”

The hand on your back stilled and his gaze faltered. Erwin wanted so badly to deny your hunches so bad, to tell you that he’d be with you forever so you don’t have to be sad but he knows that he’d only be lying if he did. From the look in his eyes, you knew you were right and you hated it. But what could you do? Aside from submitting to what fate has in store for the both of you. With that, you made an unspoken promise to live the rest of your days like it was the last.

It was the day before the mission to retake Shiganshina District and the whole of Survey Corps is busy preparing. You knew your head was supposed to be in the game but you couldn’t help but dread what comes tomorrow. Erwin felt the same, which is exactly why you were both in bed even if the sun was high up in the sky, not even bothering to change out of your uniforms. You held each other tightly. No words were spoken, just deafening silence. You couldn’t stand the tension in the air so you pull away and sat up. You capture his lips in a chaste kiss.

“Y’know, although I wish we had more time, I wouldn’t have had our love any other way.” He looked up at you with a tender gaze. “I couldn’t have asked for a better man to be married to. I sure wish we had children, though.”

Erwin cupped your face with his remaining hand. “I feel the same way. I’m sorry you didn’t get to have the family you wanted.”

“I say this but I really hope we’re wrong and that we have more time than we think we do.” You felt a lump on your throat. “But if- but if we are right. I wouldn’t want to let you go without a proper goodbye.”

Your tears find its way onto Erwin’s cheek and he couldn’t help but also tear up at how hurt you looked. He pulled you down into a kiss, one that conveyed everything he wanted to tell you; “I’m sorry”, “Don’t cry” and “I love you.” None of you had any intention of pulling away, had it not been for your need to breathe.

“I love you, Erwin. There’s so much I want to say but I don’t think words will be enough. I wanted show you my love throughout our lifetime but.. I guess this will have to do for now. You better be ready to marry me in our next lifetime because I’m finding you no matter what it takes.”

“I love you, too, Y/N. I also have a lot to say but I’ll wait for us to meet once again in our next lifetime. I hope with all my heart that we get to spend the whole of it together. If not then it will be my turn to look for you in another life.”

“Is that a promise, Commander?”

“Absolutely, my love.”

#erwin x reader #aot x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin smith x y/n #erwin smith imagine #erwin x y/n #aot x y/n #aot imagines #aot x you #aot scenarios #erwin smith #erwin imagines #erwin imagine #erwin smith imagines

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florenceisfalling · 3 years

Text

this is late again i am Sorry

ok for the jse renaissance it's appreciation day for fanworks and stuff so. here is a masterlist of some of my fave ego fics ever

please check all fics/tags for trigger warnings! i read a lot of angst lmao

also most titles i put are just a summary bc they dont already have a title flkjdslfk

the host & jj at a party by @pxppet

it's a nice day by @19517211212

the fall by @boopeen (rei writes mcyt stuff now tho!! go read it 🔪)

pumpkin cookies by @jaeyleo (or literally any fic by june istg)

marvin the magnificent’s psychic services on 14th by @astudyingreer

how long has it been since you've slept? by @immabethehero

i’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you by @henrik-von-schneeplestein

antiaverage mermaid au by @chocoships

just two murder bros being bros by @asherranceoftheheart

the strangest that i’ve seen by @scribblehoneybee

she is so your child by @the-pastel-kitsune

droppin like flies by @fruitycasket

raise it up by me lmao

i literally am too tired to come up with more but i feel like there are so many more so if i reblog this again later i am adding more. i also just couldnt include some people bc they’ve deleted or bc they r very distant from the fandom now and idk if they wanna be tagged.

if anyone wants to be removed from this let me know

BUT ANYWAY TIME FOR THE ULTIMATE FIC RECOMMENDATION:

choose your mistakes (and my mistake) by @my-dark-words: this fic is so fucked up i love it so much. literally trigger warning for body horror and death and stuff but this fic is actually what got me back into the fandom and back on tumblr, so! surprise! if you’re friends with me on tumblr it’s this fic’s fault. it’s also a massive choose your own adventure with more stuff being worked on rn. this is some lore-filled, nostalgic-for-the-older-fandom-days stuff, so pop some popcorn for it. thank u for ur time

while i can’t pick a fave fanart bc theres SOOOO much to choose from, recently i do use the tag #! on my blog to keep track of things i want to see later or i think are important, so there’s a lot of good reblogged fanart & edits & stuff ive saved on there (although it is mixed in with other stuff) if you wanna check it!

#PERFECTLY ENOUGH AS IM TYPING THE CHOOSE YOUR MISTAKES THING RUN RABBIT RUN STARTED PLAYING ON MY SPOTIFY <3 #my ego posts #jse renaissance #jacksepticeye egos #fic recs #!

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that-tall-queer-bassist · 3 years

Text

My personal Pros and Cons of my ADHD

Pros

-noticing all the little details and appreciating them in the fullest

-Emotional Dysregulation, because when I get a new plant, or find that one oddly shaped metal marble I lost a while ago, I am so excited it’s pathetic, but I love that feeling of pure joy.

-hyperfixation of the week/day/hour (i know some people describe it differently, let me be pls) . I usually switch between art mediums, and/or a few video games/social media sites. for example, I’ve been on tumblr for 3 hours as i write this, after not touching it for, i think a month?

-nuerodivergent friends. They’re just better.

-the ability to completely drown myself in information to ignore reality. Is it healthy? no. But i simply cannot handle another existiential crissi rn, so i will instead play minecraft while listening to alt rock playlists on youtube because getting spotify sounds like a lot of work.

-my ability to retain absolutely useless information, from either my, or my other nuerodivergent friends hyperfixations/special interests. I can explain to you in terrible formatting if it’s out loud, the evolution, history, training, anatomy and roles of the horse in our world, and how ao3 works, and what makes or breaks a fanfiction.

-Object Impermanence. When i literally hide myself a treat or surprise and forget about it, then get so excited when i do find/discover it again. I hide google questions, and/or song lyrics in my tabs :) its so fun. Also, hiding away stressors. Again, healthy? no, but i don’t feel like having anxiety all day, so whatever.

-Emotional Dysregulation, again. I can switch from sad or angry to happy and excited/content in a few seconds. It’s also great for getting my siblings out of their funk. ex., my sister is mad at me. I make a silly voice repeating what she said or cross my eyes at her. she laughs, then we can talk and have constructive conversation about why she shouldn’t get that upset about me “cutting off her reading time” when we share a room and I want to sleep, and know that she will be very tired tomorrow if she doesn’t also go to sleep. (We have this conversation almost every single night, i’m not even joking)

Cons

-Emotional Dysregulation. When i get upset, I’m Upset. Like, big time, ruining friendships and familial ties if i let it get out of hand, Upset. Yeah.

-Time Blindness. Constantly late, or early, or under or over estimating the amount of time it takes to do a thing, not eating til 4 because you forgot but you also should just wait til dinner, but now its 9 and I still haven’t eaten-

-Executive Dysfunction. I can’t do the things needed to function. Don’t have the mental energy to explain this one, so google it i guess? There’s a whole checklist of things you need to be able to do to function, and i can do like, three on a good day.

-Sleeping Trouble. People with adhd have trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, and waking up. So, sleeping trouble. So I’m constantly tired.

-Internal Clock is SLIGHTLY OFF. Nuerotypicals have that normal sleep schedule. Adhd ers have it shifted forward by, i think, 2, 3 hours. So we go to sleep later, and wake up later, and that’s the only way to get a healthy amount of sleep. My entire family also eats dinner super late, which might be because we’re weird, but I suspect the inner clock thing cuz we all got adhd.

-Object Impermanance. I hid my math homework one time. I failed that class.

-Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Never trying, or starting cuz I’m so terrified to get a bad reaction. Constantly masking around certain people to appeal to the few of my Nuerotypical friends. Or, y’know, majority of my extended family. They’re ableist. and homophobic. And transphobic. And racist. and sexist. The list goes on, but, yeah. Never coming out to them! :D

-Masking. It’s exhausting and I can only handle so much of it.

-Not Masking around nuerotypicals. The shoot down after finally revealing my true thoughts, urges, feelings, stims, etc. just sucks. Super disheartening.

-Squirrel or shiny jokes when they’re made by people without adhd. Yes, I do get distracted by squirrels, and shiny things, and dice. Stop pointing it out, and/or putting me into yet another box of your labeling.

-saying that I’m lazy, worthless, or a disaster when really it’s not helping. I already have that internal monologue, you adding to it and giving it some truth/extra ammunition is not. helping.

-Emotional Dysregulation. Again, because mood swings. like, I’m trying to be rightfully angry with you. Stop making me laugh with you’re silly faces or pointing out of a weird face someone made in a picture you took.

-the stigma about the hyperactive subtype. I’m inattentive. I have No Energy. Ever. Sometimes i have restlessness, but there is still no energy. Stop portraying me as bouncing off the walls, especially with caffeine. Caffeine just catches my body speed up to my brain speed, settling me down a bit, at least mentally.

-people not getting when i say I’m overstimulated, or need some time alone to process or re-energize, and following me, or continuing to do the overstimulating thing. I will literally. lose. my. mind.

-when people shut me down after I share something that is really important to me, or make fun of me for liking something an “abnormal” amount. Flashbacks to overnight camp, when whenever I said anything about horses, they said I had to do five squats, and when i got really excited about discussing the differences in riding styles/types with another person who really liked horses, but rode english, they said that it was obnoxious, when i was just.. excited to finally find someone to talk to and who felt the same way after, basically, years and years of no one getting it or wanting to listen or talking with me about the thing. To this day I don’t discuss horses with anyone, cuz it hurts so much remembering that, and the fear of it happening again is still there.

-seeing other people be ashamed about their adhd and hesitant to mention until i talk, like, super openly about having it, in like, the first 5 minutes of knowing each other. It just.. hurts.

-I’m super empathetic, not in a way that’s helpful though. Like, wincing, or limping myself because I saw you drop something on your foot, and am imagining it so vividly that it feels like it happened to me. Reading a fic about abuse or depression, and it hitting too hard and hurting me almost physically, and on a personal level because I simply cannot handle it. Feeling someone else’s pain so vividly that i can’t comfort or help them in any way, because I am so preoccupied with feeling their pain.

-never being able to finish things without starting something else. All the WIPs in my google docs, istg, i will be driven insane by it.

(y’know, this was kinda fun. As a rant, but also as a way for me to identify things about myself and my adhd that i like. Like, I know its so much shorter, but I have a hard time with positive self affirmation, so it was kinda nice. I might do it again, but just the pros part cuz the cons are kinda depressing ngl.)

(OH, Y’all should reblog with your own personal pros added on! You can add cons if you’d like to :) I’m just interested in seeing how your experiences/feeling differ from mine :) )

#adhd #adhd life #executive dysfunction #positive affimation #but it's only the begining ig #i might delete positive affirmations #idk #pros and cons #pros and cons of my adhd #nuerodivergent #nuerodivergent friends are the best #i will elaborate at some point #I've been on tumblr too long

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