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almostgenerallyalways · 1 year

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mamas (don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader Category: angst / fluff / run-on sentences Word count: 3,1k CW: language, I’ve been to Texas once okay forgive me, divorce Author’s note: this was supposed to be a holiday fic but I got stuck on it and almost abandoned it, but here it is rescued from my drafts, shoutout to all the amazing tgm fic writers your writing truly astounds me

Summary: Every year around the holidays, you hear from your ex. This year when you don’t respond, he decides to show up at your door.

2022

Jake UT [November 23, 2022 at 10:24 PM]

Hey stranger

Visiting my mom for Thanksgiving

How’ve you been?

You ignore the message. How you’ve been in the last twelve months is not something you feel up to discussing with him.

You spend the next weeks dealing with crisis after crisis at work, leaning into the chaos like you have been all year. Your personal life? Garbage fire. Reconfiguring your entire pump setup two weeks before going to production, because the DoC slapped an import ban on one of your key suppliers in China? You’re on top of it.

But then, the week before Christmas, another message comes in:

Jake UT [December 17th, 2022 at 3:47 PM]

Hey

In town for the holidays

Would love to see you if you’re free

Brett welcome too, of course

A pang in your chest, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you text back:

Thanksgiving and Christmas? Judy must be thrilled.

You’ve met Jake’s mom all of one time, ten years ago, but she made a lasting impression. Fiercely protective of her only son, she’d been wary of you at first (you were, in order of importance: Too non-Texan, too vegetarian, and too focused on trying to rescue an almost-due group project for your sustainable water management class in which no one was pulling their weight).

And yet, over the Thanksgiving weekend you’d spent at Jake’s mother’s house in Colton, she’d slowly warmed up to you. You’d asked her endless questions about her job as a project manager at Austin-Bergstrom, and she’d poured you half glasses of wine (still exotic, to you, back then) at the kitchen island, shooing Jake back into the living room.

She’d even called you, after you guys broke up, to say she was sorry to hear it, and to tell you to call her up any time you needed someone to talk to. You’d tried your best to keep your voice even, not to break down in tears for the seventh time that day, and never called her again.

* * *

“Dude. Put your phone away for two minutes.”

Jake looks up apologetically at his friend, and pockets the device. “Sorry. Just expecting a text.”

Sandeep holds out his bottle of Lone Star, and Jake clinks it with his own. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry I wasn’t around at Thanksgiving, we were visiting Jed’s family in NC. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Jake takes a swig of his beer, the cold liquid feeling like a balm to his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s been a big year, work-wise, so they owed me one. I wanted to spend some extra time with my mom.”

Bringing up his drink to toast again, Sandeep says: “Here’s to you, bud. And to getting that permanent assignment in California. At least we knew where to send our holiday card this year.”

Condensation drips down the neck of his bottle, and Jake spins it slowly in his hand, stopping himself from peeling off the label. He feels on edge, unmoored, despite this 6th Street dive bar being as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Sandeep’s got his number. “Seeing anyone else while you’re in town? I don’t know, Myers?”

Jake doesn’t look up, but feels his cheeks heat up fractionally.

His friend takes another swig of his beer. “I guess I should stop calling her Myers. You know, with the divorce and all.”

The bottle escapes Jake’s grip, and amber liquid sloshes across the table, into Sandeep’s lap. “Shit, Seresin! Grab some napkins, will you?”

* * *

2012

You’d always known there was an expiration date on this thing with Jake, which is why you’d been reluctant to meet his mom to begin with.

You wanted fundamentally different things. He, the Navy: Adventure, excitement, a chance to serve his country. You: Stability. A family. A place where you belonged.

Both of you: an opportunity to prove yourself.

It’s civil, as far as breakups go.

“You always knew I wanted to fly.” He says, over breakfast at Magnolia Café. There’s a hard set to his jaw that makes you soften in contrast, because of course you do, everyone who’s ever been near Jake Seresin for longer than ten minutes knows he’s always wanted to fly.

From your first date he told you about how Judy used to park him in her office at the airport when her summer childcare fell through; little Jake happily spending the day watching commercial jets taxiing and taking off in quick succession.

How her coworkers, the civilian engineers who’d stayed on after Bergstrom Air Force Base was decommissioned and commercialized, would regale him with stories about generations of F-4 Phantoms. Or the British Airways Concorde, one of only twenty of the ill-fated aircraft ever made, bringing the Queen to Austin in a little yellow hat. The Reconnaissance Air Meet bringing in the best fighter pilots from across all divisions of the military and abroad, to compete and show off their skills.

Jake would listen to them with stars in his eyes.

You pick at your migas, your appetite gone. “I know, Jake. I would never stop you.”

But you look at him, and you know your face mirrors his determination. “But I can’t come with you, Jake. I can’t start my career following you around from camp to base year to year. I’m forty-thousand dollars in debt getting this degree, and I need to follow my own plan.”

You haven’t moved in together, though Jake spends most of his nights at your tiny off-campus apartment, where you’ve made him countless cups of black coffee trying to fuel weekend study sessions. Where he would come in past midnight, back from the late shift at his part-time job at the H-E-B, and bury his face in your neck, waking you up even though you’d been asleep for hours. Where you would hold his sleeping head to your chest, his deep breathing somehow felt inside of you, and run your fingers up and down the bare skin of his back, trying to memorize him.

You’re twenty-two, you tell yourself. This is not the end of the world.

So you see him off at the front door, a box of his things clutched to his chest, and you force yourself to be strong. “You better be,” and you try to smile up at him, but you’re not sure you’re doing a convincing job, “You better be the best goddamn pilot the Navy has ever seen, Jake.”

For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he just puts down the box, and pulls you into a last embrace. You sink into it, the fundamentally safe feeling of his arms around you, then make yourself pull away after a minute, pretending you don’t see the wet stains on his shirt.

Later you look at all the spaces in your apartment he is now conspicuously absent from (no dog-eared volume of Game of Thrones on the nightstand, no boots by the door), and it hits you then; the crevasse he’s left in your life. It may run deeper than you thought.

* * *

Jake had gone to Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, then designator-specific training in Pensacola, Florida, and done his best not to think about you.

It helped that his days were intense and exhausting. It helped that, on liberty weekends, girls would flock to him and his friends in bars.

It helped to be several states away from you.

It helped to be living his dream.

* * *

There is a bit of a backslide, that first Thanksgiving after, where you both think it can’t hurt to see each other for one drink, for old time’s sake, which ends in him taking you up against the door in your new apartment, your legs wrapped around his waist because he does not have the willpower or presence of mind to figure out the way to your bedroom.

He knows it was a mistake, at about five AM the next day, when the blue light of morning starts streaming through a gap in the curtains, illuminating your tousled hair fanned out over the pillow, the steady rise and fall of your chest so familiar to him he could cry.

Untangling himself from you hurts, and he does perhaps the most cowardly thing he ever will: he sneaks out before you wake up. But next week he’s shipping out, and the thought of the same dead-end conversation over coffee made just the way he likes it is unbearable, so he makes himself walk away.

Somehow it’s worse, the second time around.

* * *

You’d met someone else, like he’d known you would. He sees the engagement announcement on Facebook, browsing on his phone between drills, and likes the post. It’s the third year he’s been away, and he’s at TOPGUN by then, so he has a lot on his mind. He has a girlfriend, even, a local: cute as a button, beats him savagely at pool.

It doesn’t fully hit him until the first time he sees you with your then-fiancé, at a little holiday reunion of college friends. He sees you with that ring on your finger, another man’s arm around your shoulders, and he gets an acute sense of the alternate reality that could’ve been his.

It feels a little like losing altitude too fast.

Your initial reception of him is understandably frosty, but you seem too genuinely happy to hold a grudge. By the third round, when he sidles up to you at the bar, you give him a quick hug, looking up at him with a smile that squeezes his heart: “I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and pulls you back in, just for a moment, tucking your head under his chin. You smell like apple and magnolia, like nights spent with his nose pressed into your back.

You don’t invite him to the wedding, and he’s all too glad not to have to make up an excuse not to go.

* * *

Things settle, after that. Jake gets deployed and reassigned, breaks up with his girlfriend and eventually gets another. You get promoted to senior engineer, then project lead. You see each other, not every year but close enough, sometimes with your husband there, sometimes without.

He braces himself for the next Facebook post; that you’re pregnant, but it never comes. Over time, even that seems to lose some of its potential emotional impact on him.

Until three weeks ago, when you don’t text him back.

* * *

2022

You kick your shoes off in the entryway, then head into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Before you can reach the tap, the doorbell rings, and for a second you think somehow, some way, your terrible Bumble date has followed you home.

Grabbing the biggest kitchen knife you own off the magnet strip over the sink, just in case, you creep back to the door, barefoot, to press your face up to the peephole.

You don’t really expect to see the guy you just left, the ice in your glass not even melted before you were thinking up excuses to get out of there, but you sure as fuck don’t expect to see Jake either.

The door feels heavier than usual as you slowly slide it open, or maybe you’re just a little stunned. The night air hits your skin, and you can make out the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

For a long moment, Jake just looks at you, but then he says: “What were you planning on doing with that, sweetheart?”

You follow the jut of his chin down the line of your arm, and contemplate the knife for a second, Jake’s sudden appearance having made you forget all about it.

“I thought someone might have followed me here.”

“Ah.” He says, a spark in his eyes, clearly suppressing a smile. “If you were going to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, a knife is a terrible choice. I could give you some tips, though.”

Putting the damn thing down on your entryway console, you turn back to look at him. It’s not cold, exactly, in December in South Central Austin, but he looks underdressed: a long-sleeved light grey t-shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of a faded pair of jeans.

He looks good, you can’t deny it: he’s always had an immediate effect on you.

Jake, your somewhat gangly, sweet college boyfriend had it. Jake, ten years of military training later: older, filled out, fine crinkly lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes (helped along by the California sun and God knows what far-off places), irrevocably still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

At that, his expression sobers, and he looks at you for a long moment before he says:

“You didn’t tell me.”

* * *

Fucking Sandeep, you think, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, because that fucker has not been subtle with the hints lately, tutting like a Victorian matron while you pass the time evaluating your Bumble matches with his husband during Monday night football’s ad breaks.

The granite of your kitchen countertop feels reassuringly cool beneath your thighs, and you take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the tile below:

“I wasn’t ready.”

Jake huffs, or so you assume by the little sound that escapes him, as you determinedly face only his sneakers: “It’s been a year. You sure told everyone else we know.”

That makes your head snap up, emotion rising in your chest in a way you don’t like, have always had to tamp down when it comes to him, these last ten years. “Fuck off, Jake. You know it’s different when it comes to you.”

He leans back against the fridge, arms folded, just slightly lifting his right eyebrow at you in that irritating way of his: “I could’ve been there for you.”

Fuck it, you think, all cards on the table then. “I was heartbroken, and embarrassed, and trying to figure out how to exist on my own again after being married for five years to someone who didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was, Jake. Sorry my first impulse wasn’t to come cry on my hometown hero ex-boyfriend’s shoulder.”

His eyes soften, and he pushes off the fridge to come stand next to you, running his fingers over the edge of the countertop. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter than a moment ago. “I’m being a dick. It’s just, you have to know, I would’ve been there for you.”

He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath: “It’s always been different when it comes to you too, sweetheart.”

You start to shake, a little, or maybe it’s your imagination. But your voice wavers as you say his name, everything about your tone a warning: “Jake.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head: “Our timing sucked, and I don’t regret our decision from back then. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last ten years, and I’m proud of you. You think I don’t keep up with what you’re doing? The articles you’ve published?”

This stuns you, momentarily. “No, Jake Seresin. If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think you gave a shit about the latest advances in Texas drought management.”

Just being near him, the familiar smell of him bringing up memories you’ve had years to unsuccessfully repress, is overpowering.

He makes it worse by turning to you, face so goddamn heartbreakingly earnest as he says: “I couldn’t give you what you deserved, ten years ago, but I always told myself, if I was ever in a position to…” He swallows. “I tried to forget about it when you got married, I tried to root for you and Brett, I swear.”

His hand settles next to your thigh, not quite touching, and your hand comes down on its own accord to cover his. He straightens almost imperceptibly, uses his other palm to wipe a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

Cupping your face, he draws a deep breath. “I have a permanent assignment now, in San Diego. I know it’s…”

“Jake.” You interrupt, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m not remotely the same person I was back then.”

He moves to stand in front of you now, and you draw him in between your thighs. Suddenly it seems imperative that you feel him, that he holds you.

Dipping his head to yours, you can hear the smile in his voice, watery, tentative: “Then let me get to know you again. Get to know me again.” He leans one hand on the counter, the other tracing your cheekbone. “No pressure. I’m totally very cool about this. Whatever you want.”

You laugh, a little choked up through tears, but genuine. It feels liberating. “What if I say yes? How does this work?”

His smile broadens, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he’s so goddamn close, nudging your nose with his. “Come visit me, for a start. I’ll show you the sights.”

You draw him in a little closer still, legs wrapping around his waist, one hand finding its way into his close-cropped hair, and you could cry for how familiar he still feels after all these years.

But when you close the gap between your lips and his, it’s like coming home and yet not at all: he’s different and rougher and sharper and it floods you with emotion, something big and terrifying and old and new.

He leans into the kiss, grinning, cards his fingers through your hair before he moves to cover your chin, your brow, the space next to your ear with kisses, and you remember this with a jolt to your heart – how singularly intense it is to be the focus of Jake Seresin, like the strength of the sun is aimed at you, how he never does anything by halves.

You take his chin in your hand, kiss him again for good measure, before saying, into the stubble of his jaw: “One visit. No pressure.”

The grin he gives you in return could power half this city: “One visit. No pressure.”

He dips his head to yours again, kissing the skin behind your ear as he tells you: “Southern California has a lot of drought problems, you know. I’ve actually been reading some really scary articles about it.”

i hope you enjoyed :):) - if you liked this I hope you’ll check out some of my other work:

where the wild things are (rooster x reader)

cross my heart (hangman x reader) masterlist

#tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun maverick fic #why am i like this i stg

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months

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“red flowers”: fae, vargas camp 2, and glorious masquerade

THERE’S SOMETHING IN VARGAS CAMP 2 THAT MADE ME DO A DOUBLE TAKE 👁️ 👄 👁️

So in 2-2, the pixies of the forest are trying to put out the campfires. The boys then talk about how there was a miner's campfire a while back that caused a forest fire, which naturally spooked the local fairies. AND THEN VIL GOES AND DROPS THIS DOOZIE OF A LINE:

EXCUSE ME, VI L SIR??????? ?? ? ???? ? ? ?? ? ? ? Did you just say RED FLOWERS? Is that not similar to the CRIMSON FLOWERS/LOTUSES that ROLLO tried to use to establish a magicless Twisted Wonderland in Glorious Masquerade?!

ADDENDUM: I learned recently (very shortly after this post went live, actually!) that the “red flowers” may also be a reference to what the animals in the live action Jungle Book call fires. I’m not personally familiar with this film, so I’ll be running with the crimson lotus/Glorious Masquerade connection for the duration of this post!!

Looking at how the phrases are written in Japanese, they use the term 赤い花 ("akai no hana"/red flower) in Vargas Camp and 紅蓮の花 ("guren no hana"/crimson lotus flower) in Glorious Masquerade. Crimson is basically a specific kind of red, and lotus is just a certain type of flower. Even more damning is that fact that in 3-8 of Glorious Masquerade, Malleus EXPLICITLY describes the spreading crimson flowers as having "a brilliance like that of fire". You can see from images of the crimson lotus that they do, indeed, seem to glow like fire.

If you look at the real life timeline of these events releasing, it also coincidentally lines up!! Like, the original release of Vargas Camp 2 (for JP server) was in mid to late SEPTEMBER 2022. Then Glorious Masquerade would come out mid to late OCTOBER 2022. Vargas Camp 2 was literally the new story event that came out RIGHT BEFORE Glorious Masquerade... WAS THIS FORESHADOWING??????????????? And even more importantly than that... What does this mean for fae??????

One could call "red flowers" just a poetic way for the pixies to label something they don't understand. But what's confusing is that there are clearly also fire pixies living in the forest; we see several of them in Vargas Camp attacking the students. It's not as though the fairies are unfamiliar with fire itself, so why not just call the campfires 'fires'?? What if... (and stick with me here) the pixies named the campfires thus because it's potentially a reference to something far deadlier (than even the forest fire) that they experienced or heard of in their history? In the time period of ~400 years ago shown to us in book 7, we learn that human invaders drove fae out of their homes and began mining their land for resources. This, more specifically, impacts the Briar Country up north, who are fighting against humans that arm themselves with iron (something which appears to repulse the fae). These humans are also known to use deceptive tactics, such as distracting the messenger team of Lilia and co. while they launch an assault on Mallenoa's castle, where she and her unborn son are. So... what's to say they wouldn't resort to other underhanded means as well? Mean such as... utilizing a flower known to suck out the magic from living beings :))) like maybe the... crimson lotus, perhaps?

In Glorious Masquerade, we learn that the crimson lotus has been extinct for a long time now. They were destroyed by humans centuries ago because of how dangerous they were to mages. We don't have an exact number of years, but "centuries" is enough to land it in the rough ballpark of the human-fae war. Malleus himself, who is canonically 178 years old, didn't even recognize the flowers at first (as very few records of them exist in modern times); this could imply that the crimson flowers were around before he was born, which further supports that they were present during the war era.

What's more, if we look at Maleficent: Mistress of Evil (ie the second live action Maleficent movie), we see a VERY strong parallel to the crimson lotus flower. In the film, we are introduced to the Tomb Bloom, a flower that just so happens to also be red and glows a little like fire.

UNCANNY RESEMBLANCE, NO? 🤡

Tomb Blooms are said to grow on the graves of fairies, and, when mixed with iron, creates "red dust". This red dust is considered deadly to fairies upon contact--and in the film, a fairy-hating queen lures a bunch of fae into a wedding venue to eliminate them en masse with the stuff. The crimson lotus flowers of TWST, meanwhile, are deadly on their own, draining the magic out of any magical being they touch (and permanently depriving them of magic once all the magic has been taken out of someone). For fae, who rely on magic for basically everything (travel, cooking etc.), it would be a miserable existence symbolically synonymous with death.

(Side note: in hindsight, this somewhat explains why Malleus is part of the Glorious Masquerade SSR trio. If the crimson lotus flowers were, in actuality, inspired by the Tomb Blooms (something which was weaponized against Maleficent and her kind), then it just makes so much sense for the antagonist of the event, Rollo, to utilize similar plants against Malleus, who is twisted from the Mistress of Evil herself.)

OKAY, now knowing all of that, here's what I propose as a possible timeline of events if we consider all of what I just said: ~400 years ago, crimson lotuses were plentiful. When the human-fae conflict escalated, the human side decided to play dirty to eliminate those pesky fae--because even the great Draconias would be susceptible to the magic-leeching properties of the flower. However, they discovered, upon repeated experimentation, that the flower could also harm their own mages, so they had to reformulate. Maybe this was when they learned that they could combine iron with the powdered lotus (increased surface area, and therefore also increased potency) to create something even more deadly to fae (like in Maleficent 2). Alternatively, this could contribute for the reasoning for the iron armor they wear in battle; iron repulses fae, but it could also protect them from the crimson lotus flowers due to how much of the skin it covers. For example, the Dawn Knight is said to wear a helmet that completely cover the face, and many Silver Owl NPCs do the same. There is little skin visible, unlike the armor of the Briar Country fae. But anyway, the point is that, some way or another, the humans abused the crimson lotus during this time. Once the war concluded (or in the period of reconstruction that followed), fae and humans came to an agreement to destroy all the lotuses as a part of their peace treaty/negotiations, agreeing that it was mutually beneficial to all magical creatures and mages. Humans were mainly responsible for this extinction, as there was a larger population of them that were magicless and could therefore handle the flowers without consequences. Because of the war engulfing an entire continent, fae in other parts of Twisted Wonderland would have heard about the events, fae migrated out of Briar Country to get away from the conflict, OR the conflict itself was a Twisted Wonderland-wide issue, not just contained within Briar Country. Any one of these could explain why eventually pixies on Sage's Island, in the Silent Woods (where the boys went camping), would know of the calamity caused by the crimson lotuses of the past. When they come across wild campfires, the pixies may be frightened by them due to their resemblance to the crimson lotuses and the trauma associated with war because it's human outsiders that are invading their home and propagating these 'fires'... the same situation as the human-fae war. There was the literal manmade forest fire that was far more recent, yes--but again, this doesn't fully explain why the pixies, who should be familiar with fire, would call it a "red flower" instead of just 'fire'. The association with "red flowers" being dangerous may be a result of what they recall from the war--that crimson flower which sapped away their strength and robbed them of their magic. Then, in modern day, we have Rollo somehow stumbling across seeds and breeding crimson lotuses of his own in secret for his own nefarious purposes. History (mayhaps???) repeating itself??????? ?? ? ????? ??? ??

DKJNsfhbvoqef32ygtr69r137fbofasib IDK, MAYBE I'M JUST TALKING OUT OF MY ASS AND EXTRAPOLATING TOO MUCH FROM LITTLE DETAILS 🤡 I just think it's kind of a fun theory, even if the whole timeline ends up being thrown out the window in the next main story update... Don't mind me, I'm still on my "Rollo will come save us all in a cruel and ironic twist of fate" copium--

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Rollo Flamme #Rollo Flamm #disney twisted wonderland #Vil Schoenheit #notes from the writing raven #twst theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #twisted wonderland theory #Maleficent #Maleficent 2 #Maleficent: Mistress of Evil #spoilers #Jungle Book

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secret-subject · 7 months

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Why are we so convinced ADHD (and other neurodivergent people) can't be hypnotized?

This is something I've thought about a lot lately. So a little context of why:

So I've been doing hypnosis for about 12 years now. Back when I was 18 I joined the irc chat on WMM and started being hypnotized pretty much daily. I did files and I had dominants to play with and that continued for a long time. By the time I was in my mid 20's I was extremely easy, in fact too easy. The culture back then also wasn't the greatest for me and my subject agency was pretty mid (gotta love hindsight) but again, I was known for having a very good and very squishy brain. In 2022, my Mum was diagnosed with ASD but also got a surprise ADHD diagnosis. Now, we are very similar so she insisted I get tested and low and behold I have ADHD, inattentive subtype.

This blew my mind because for the longest time I had the clear signs of undiagnosed ADHD but a lot of these things were assumed came from my history of doing a buttload of conditioning files, my health conditions and just being "like that". By this stage I had stopped being hypnotized myself and focused on my role as a dominant and content creator because that for me was something I just had to focus on. My switching stopped and I didn't go under for about three years.

So now, I took a hiatus to go and try something else and when I came back I was stressed and got back into testing out files again. (Also super lucky in this time some friends of mine became hypnosis creators so that was a great way to dabble with people I can trust). My first few experiences were like getting on a bike after years of not riding. It was a little wobbly but soon with practice I was right back where I left off and now even better than that. I think right now I'm getting some of the literal deepest trance experiences ever. It's hard to describe but all I'll say is "oooof".

So why is this backstory important?

Because this is one very clear narrative of a person who had undiagnosed ADHD and found hypnosis very achievable with time, practice and a buttload of conditioning with the right people. Because my ADHD was not a factor until now, I never got told, "you can't be hypnotized" this self fulfilling proficy that makes people feel like this isn't for them which for me seeing this narrative in online spaces breaks my heart for the people who see this and feel that is their label and that is what sticks.

I think it's not our place to say who can or cannot be hypnotized as a general rule because there are not general rules in hypnosis. You can't look at someone and assess them based on factors you don't know or understand. In this world there are very few people who straight up cannot be hypnotized at all to some degree (far less then even the research people keep quoting says at this point) and this is why I feel so strongly that we need to instead of trying to label entire groups as "not good for play" to instead change the narrative to "let's see what works for more people" because brains are different and hypnosis can not be a one size fits all approach. It's too subjective for that.

This is also the biggest reason I made the ADHD hypnosis kink audio recently. I used my knowledge of hypnosis and some research on presentations of ADHD in combination to make something I felt was quite special. Maybe in the future this is something I can work on again because I want all the ADHDers with a hypnosis kink to be able to harness that hyperfocus and those skills we have to make kinky fun times extra fun.

So like, is it time we gave up generalizations on people like this? I know I'm ready to not hear my brain judged before you've even seen what it can do.

#hypnosis #hypnok1nk #adhd and hypnosis #im great at being hypnotized and i have adhd dammit

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genderqueerdykes · 9 months

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Ditch Etsy for Good: A Disabled Etsy Seller's Experience

i started my Etsy store in August of 2022. I was in desperate need of income at the time, as I am disabled, and waiting for my full disability payments to come through. I currently make $245/month off of a general assistance program that's meant to "help" while you're waiting for those payments.

I needed, at the time, $900/month for my studio apartment, because I was on a month-to-month lease, and could not re-new it, as I was the secondary renter, and my abusive ex whom I could not contact was the primary renter. They needed his signature to renew the lease, or else I was on month-to-month status, which meant they could increase my rent to whatever price they saw fit at any point.

I was struggling to stay alive. I had a bunch of kandi supplies I had gathered over the years, pony beads, string, all that kind of stuff. So i accrued some extra supplies to make other types of necklaces and chokers. Keep in mind my level of poverty, and the level of inflation in 2022. I was having to accrue supplies secondhand, from thrift stores. Everything I bought and sold was upcycled, save for the few times I could afford things to fill in the gaps from craft stores.

After I gathered supplies, I went to work. I spent countless hours making all types of jewelry. Not really sleeping. Just countless hours of stringing beads, if I woke up in the middle of the night from a bad dream or stress about homelessness, I would go back to work. I've been homeless before. Several times. Never lived on the street or in a shelter, but I have lived in hotels, cars, crashed on couches and have run from getting kicked out for making little money endless times.

I drank a lot of coffee and ate very little. Eating consumed time, time that I didn't have. Once I was done making things, it was time to photograph every. single. item., then edit them, and upload them to Etsy. I had to create listings for each individual item, all of which cost $0.20 to create, and again to renew when it ran out in 3 months if not purchased. There was already a start-up cost.

Shipping made my life a nightmare. Etsy charged me for each and every single label. I tried free shipping at first, as it's a huge draw for customers, but labels were around $3.69 from my state to the mainland United States at the time, creeping ever closer to $4. For anywhere else it would easily come to $10 or more, international shipping was easily $20 - $40. Even if the customer paid for shipping I still had to go through the process of purchasing a label.

This didn't account for the fact that I had to purchase printer, ink and paper at some point to keep printing these labels. Ink is wildly expensive and your cartridges run out faster than they should. They are rigged to flag as empty when they're not. This also does not account for ink and paper lost when the printer does something in error, which is often. The office at my apartment complex was willing to print labels and packing slips for me for a while, but they cut me off after a few months.

The biggest kick in the teeth was the processing time for my payments. Because I shipped my first few orders without tracking labels. Etsy put a hold on my money for the next 3 months. They would take a random amount of time to process each payment. I could never figure out the schedule. My money would sometimes take days or weeks to arrive when I set Etsy to a "daily" payment schedule. It was torture. I was sweating over not having money constantly, and missing payment deadlines left and right.

I was getting orders at every hour of the day. I didn't "clock out" of this job. I had to change the notification sound of the Etsy Seller app on my phone because when I heard it, I would panic. I wasn't excited, I was filled with dread. It was never ending, and I was constantly stressed about getting orders out on time. I never had time to rest. I didn't get days off. I was on the job 24/7. Unless you completely uninstall the Etsy app and refuse to check it fora while, you can't really clock out of this job.

This isn't even touching the fact that Etsy also takes a cut out of every single sale you make, meaning you have to jack up your prices wildly either to make free shipping reasonable so you're not losing money on each sale, or you have to play a dance of figuring out what the best balance between shipping and item costs are, which is time consuming. It's a lot of math and comparing against your niche's market.

Etsy has an ads feature, which you must again pay for, where they will run ads for your products in random banner ads and whatnot. You are charged if one customer clicks the ad, not purchases something, meaning this is a complete fucking scam. The minimum is $1/day and you are forced to subscribe monthly. You can cancel at any point, but sometimes it takes a full day for this to cancellation to go through. The Etsy Ads feature sucks ass. I received exactly 2 orders through their service and kept it on for a few weeks here and there. It's horrid. You do not receive a significant enough boost in traffic to make the investment worth it. Also consider how many people use adblockers these days. This isn't hard to see.

The amount of time you have to spend promoting and boosting your own shop, buying supplies, creating and photographic products, uploading them to the website, and everything else in between is not worth the amount of money you make. You do not turn a profit unless you are selling very high end products like fine jewelry and antiques. Anyone else in the bottom rungs loses money through one avenue or another, Etsy finds ways to make the entire process draining and expensive for the seller.

The also will not provide you a 1099 document to file your taxes for your earned income unless you have made over $25,000 in one year on Etsy, which is literally impossible unless you make, as I said, fine jewelry. The average Etsy seller does not make this much in one year. We do not make a liveable wage, yet Etsy pretends like we do.

I didn't realize how draining it was to run this store until I put it in vacation mode. I'm shutting it down as soon as I'm able to. I could not handle the pressure of orders coming in in the middle of the night. I could not handle the pressure of not being able to remember which bracelets I could wear, and which ones were up on the store. Or which ones I could give to friends freely without having to issue someone a refund because I made a mistake. The worry of sending the wrong customer the wrong product was constantly on my mind. Every review that came in made me scared I had fucked up or provided an inferior product. I was distraught, broken and scared.

Now I'm much more free. The piddly jackshit amount of income I made was not worth it at all. I don't think I made back the cost of supplies and I definitely was never compensated for the sheer amount of labor I put into my products and orders. Etsy just kept kicking me while I was down and now that they have made it so that you are unable to file a class action lawsuit against them, they are only becoming more tyrannical.

Etsy does not care about their small sellers. They only care about the big cash cows who bring in big views and line Etsy's pockets with the Etsy Ads program. If you're too poor too keep up they'll chew you up and spit you out. Fuck Etsy. Fuck the lack of respect for their sellers. Fuck them for holding my money randomly for 3 months because I didn't know tracking labels were REQUIRED in their eyes. Fuck Etsy for never letting me know when I was getting paid, and for paying me on such an irregular schedule. Fuck Etsy for the fucked up fees and expensive shipping labels.

Fuck Etsy for everything. Let them go. Cut the cord. Navigate to Ko-Fi or somewhere else. Let this horrid site fucking die.

#our writing #our shop #our store #etsy

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adventuringblind · 7 months

Text

Picking at my Sins

Oscar piastri x reader

Genre: Angst, smut?

Summary: Reader comes from a religious background and struggles with self worth. Oscar is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: religious trauma, alluded to SH, panic attacks, talks of sex

Notes: mmmmmm definitely not self projecting or anything

Masterlist

The one thing nobody teaches in church is that innocence is simply a construct in the human mind. No one is ever truly innocent. Especially those who you expect to always love and respect you. The ones who preach to always follow the rules.

They turned their back on her. A mistake that wasn't even hers led to her entire church turning their backs on her. She was left to fend with nothing. Her parents were facing the same issue, only they were the ones who started it.

It was for that reason she left.

She wouldn't call herself innocent. Simply inexperienced. She knows what she would like to try but hasn't been able to do so.

She was alone for so long. A new place makes it hard to make friends. Especially since she has a religious background, people tend to immediately think the worst.

She met Oscar in October of 2022. It was cold and rainy that evening. She needed something from the store, and she didn't have a car, so she'd settled for walking in the torrential down pour.

Alcohol. She needed alcohol after a lengthy conversation with her mom that didn't end well and a ten hour shift at a job she gets minimum wage for. Then, to feed her depressed mood, she went to the nearest park with a pretty view, sat on the bench, and drank straight from the bottle.

She's not sure how long she'd been here, but it was long enough that she was shivering and drenched. The liquor barely touched. How had religion touched that, too? Why does she feel sick at the idea of putting her mouth to the bottle?

The park is deserted, and she assumes that it'll remain that way. It doesn't. And at some point, a male comes running towards her. He's probably just out for some kind of workout he can't pause even for the weather.

She assumes he'll run right by her. He doesn't. Imstead he stops to make conversation. Then he sits with her. Then they walk together to somewhere out of the rain.

That is how she found herself talking to the Australian any moment she got. It's how she made a friend who didn't care that she couldn't stomach eating food at times because it could cause imperfections. A friend who let her rant about her ridiculous situation.

Then, a friend became a lover. He asked her out in January. He asked her to that same park which they had met months earlier. He told her they didn't have to do anything quickly. That he was willing to help her figure it out. He truly saw her for who she was and wanted to continue having stupid conversations and finding weird locations to explore.

She worked through things slowly. Many panic attacks were had. The first time she dyed her hair, she cried. Her first time wearing clothes that revealed more than they should have, she also cried. She couldn't even wear them out due to the sheer amount of overwhelming feelings.

Then she left to travel with Oscar. He dragged her around the world with him. Asking nothing in return aside from loving him unconditionally and being his pillar through the stress of a rookie season.

He was so gentle through everything. Honest with her about every misconception she had about life. Reminded her daily that being herself wasn't a sin.

The one thing she hadn't been able to get past was intimacy. It is the most taboo subject to speak about in a church. Aside from hearing that it's bad unless you're married. If it happens any other way, then you'd be punished. Shunned by all. Labeled as wicked and disgusting.

Hand holding was the first step. That came pretty easy while they were friends even. Then he kissed her and she kissed back and even though she was clumsy it was amazing.

The kiss was followed by the first of many panic attacks. A nasty thing that had her wailing and clawing at her skin.

Eventually, she got past that. Though she picked up new habits that probably weren't the best. Oscar made it a point to keep her hands occupied in more productive ways. Even if it felt childish like coloring in a colorbook. They went through three of them in a month. It became a way that they both relax.

She felt herself getting more comfortable with touch after that. Even getting far enough to get clothes off.

And then she wanted to have him completely. He was so gentle through the entire thing. Always asking how she felt. The girl felt utterly clueless and fumbled with everything, but she didn't panic. Maybe it was the overwhelming feeling of love that kept those dark thoughts out of her brain.

It was a month later that it all came crashing down. Her parents had found her. They showed up at her flat while Oscar was there.

She'd never seen the Aussie so defensive. He'd always been so laid back. Until she watched him tell her parents to get out in a horrifyingly stern voice.

It didn't matter, though. The damage had already been done. They'd already yelled about how awful she'd become. The female had just hung her head and listened. It came like muscle memory.

Oscar did get them out eventually. They left in a flurry of shouts as Oscar closed the door and locked it. Then he started from square one again.

That's when the panic attacks during sex started. She couldn't stop the thoughts. They snuck up on her. One second, she was in bliss, and the next, she was trying to claw her skin off her body. The overwhelming disgust with herself seemed to set in after that.

But Oscar was there, every time. He would hold her. Get her cleaned up. Place bandages where her nails had managed to rip skin. Then he’d occupy her mind with anything far away from the topics of intimacy and sex. He’d let her initiate contact so he didn’t scare her.

Sometime, he gets asked by friends (Lando) about his personal life. Why the two aren’t often see going out together. Why she prefers to do a shot then drink mocktails for the rest of the night.

And Oscar always gives the same over used response. “Cause I’d rather see her smiling then picking herself apart over make believe sins.”

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eth-edwards-73 · 5 months

Text

the 3th of December

Héctor Fort x reader based on Heather by Conan Gray warnings: angst, misscommunications

I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater You said it looked better on me than it did you

3/12/2022

You and Hector had been friends for almost your entire lives, so it wasn’t unusual for the both of you to spend time together. Everyone in your life was always telling you how perfect you’d be for each other and recently you had started more like a couple with Hector although you didn’t put a label on it and it never came up in conversations so when Hector gave you his sweater on the third of december, you swore your heart was going to burst. You wore it for weeks on end after it, every time you did, taking in his smell. He smelled perfect to you and it soon turned into your favorite scent.

Only if you knew how much I liked you

From that day on you really started developing feelings for him but you were too scared to admit them to him so you kept silent. For you the glances, the hugs and the quick kisses were enough for now, but truth to be told you wanted more, you wanted there to be a label since you weren’t the only girl that had your eyes on him.

But I watch your eyes as she walks by What a sight for sore eyes Brighter than the blue sky She's got you mesmerized while I die

You didn’t really remember when everything changed but you did know why, it was because of her. Heather, even the name made your heart churn with heartbreak, she was a transfer student from America and the second Hector saw her it was over for you. The girl truly was everything you could only dream to be, beautiful long, straight blonde hair and gorgeous ocean blue eyes. Hector was mesmerized by her, looking at her like she put the stars in the sky whilst you watched him look at her. The way he looked at her made you want to die, everything hurt when he was around her. All the hope you had in ever being official with Hector was shattered the first of September but still you kept holding on.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester But you like her better

3/12/2023

Any hope you had left was now six feet under as you looked at Hector and Heather, she was wearing the same sweater he had given you just a year prior. You truly didn’t know how he could’ve ever wanted you and why he had kissed you so many times because in your eyes you could never even come close to Heather or the other girls that wanted him. He gave her his sweater, whispering the same words he had whispered to you. The sweater was just made out of ordinary polyester but when you looked at him looking at her you knew the difference, he looked at her with love, he had never looked at you like that. He liked her better and you could see and understand why but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Wish I were Heather

After that day you became distant to Hector, almost never replying to his texts, not interacting with him anywhere, it truly was like you hadn’t been friends since you were in diapers. It felt confusing to Hector so during your annual Christmas dinner, which he attended with Heather he confronted you.

“Why are you ignoring me all of a sudden?” He asks you, already looking agitated as you stand there with a glass of red wine in your hand, you truly look beautiful, a gorgeous cherry red, silky dress hugging your body perfectly, your make-up looked flawless and to anyone you looked breathtaking but not to Hector or at least that’s what you thought.

“I’m not.” Your voice is cold and distant and you give him a weirded out look as you reply, obviously you know what he’s talking about but you don’t want to talk about it. Now he looks angered and he takes a step forward, making you take a step back. He frowns in confusion because you never used to do that. “Why are you lying to me?” He asks you, desperately wanting to know what’s going on because even though he didn’t show it in the months that just passed he still cares about you and your friendship.

“I’m not.” You tell him in the same monotone voice as before. Oh, how badly you wanted to tell him why you had been ignoring him but you didn’t because you didn’t want to ruin it for him.

A boy approaches you from behind and puts his hands on your hips and you turn around, your face lighting up when you see who’s holding you. You look at the boy with so much love and he does the same to you, Hector feels his heart break and he backs away, back to Heather who’s wearing a plain blue dress.

The four hearts of the teenagers are all broken, yours had broken months before, Heather’s had broken when seeing the way Hector looked at you whilst confronting you, Hector’s had broken once seeing your face light up when looking at the boy you had brought with you and Ivan, the boy you had brought with you, had his heart broken when he saw the heartbreak in your eyes when looking at Hector, knowing that deep down you still loved the brunet.

If only you and Hector hadn’t been so blind…

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dedicated to today since i'm single af and because i haven't gotten a sweater from anyone this year (i really wished rugby boy would give me his but he's in England and i'm in Belgium so it's basically impossible unless he sent it with the post weeks in advance but we're not even together and he doesn't know my adress so also impossible)

I hope all of you aren't going through too much heartbreak and i wish every single one of you a sweater from a guy

#hector fort #fc barcelona #la masia #angst #hector fort x reader #heather

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augustinescruelsummer · 9 months

Text

MEMORIES | CP10

IN which you and Christian exchange heartfelt memories from your relationship while watching the stars, surrounded by a warm night fire.

fem!reader x cp10

content: fluff. teeth rotting fluff. reminiscing. she cleans a wound of his. the World Cup injury. christian’s a lovesick softie !!!

AN: this is so sweet like my teeth are rotting after writing this wtf. I actually have no idea where this came from it feels like the deep hell pits of my brain but I lowkey really like it LMFAO. Also this GIF? MY GOD. LORD. I am FINE.

WC: 2.7k

"REMEMBER that time you went flying into the goalkeeper at the World Cup?" You ask Christian while he nurses a beer, the fire pit providing a warm haze to the domestic night. The sky was crystal clear, minus the smoke your fire provided the air, and it was a perfect night to gaze at the stars. He chuckles softly at the random comment while running a finger down your hair, "How could I forget?"

You didn't know why you made the comment, suddenly overwhelmed with a collection of nostalgic memories while gazing into the fire between you two. Maybe it was the domesticity of the scene, the sun just setting over the horizon on a cold night, the two of them cuddled under her favorite blanket pointing out stars.

"What made y'think about that?" He prompts further, readjusting his arm to allow her more space to come closer. A soft smile falls over her lips as she fully recalls the memory.

THE MEN'S WORLD CUP. 2022.

A sound of horror falls from your lips as Christian goes to kick the crucial goal, flying into the goalkeeper. You watch intently as a blur of trainers come sprinting over to him as he holds his groin in pain, people repping the American flag around you craning for a look at the scene. He had been down for a couple of minutes, partly in pain and appreciating the goal he had just scored. You had felt nauseous, partly due to the fact you'd never seen Christian be intensely injured on the field. He attempts to stand on his own and walk towards the medical facility, but his face contorts with pain as his weight collapses almost instantly on a nearby trainer. His teammates look on despondently at the American boy and his abrupt exit, congratulating him on the phenomenal goal.

"I was so embarrassed," he recalls looking down at you, pulling you out of the trip down memory lane. Your eyebrows furrow at the comment, never knowing he felt like that.

"Why in God's name would you be embarrassed about an injury, Chris?"

He shrugs in an attempt to dodge the question, leaning forward with a long stick to probe the firewood around.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question," you push as he spends longer than necessary on a piece of wood that didn't need adjustment.

"I honestly don't know. The whole time I was in my own head thinking about how not-badass the debacle was, and at the end of the day I knew I was never going to live it down. Interviewers asking me if we could still have children because of it and the picture from my story getting leaked. I was playing for the damn United States and was going to have an early exit because of a groin injury. It brought the team publicity at the end of the day, but I was still mortified."

You lean back to look at his expression while he reveals his thoughts, comfortable in confiding. "It felt like I was 14 years old getting punched in the balls at recess," he adds with a soft chuckle, turning the neck of the bottle around nervously.

"I thought it was quite the badass exit," you told him confidently, "You went viral on social media for being attractive and diving into a goalkeeper for your country. You were labelled Captain America. That is nothing to be embarrassed about."

A grin creeps over his bashful expression and your heart warms at the sight of it.

"I was worried about you in the moment," you told him earnestly as more of the memory unfolded in your mind.

MEN'S WORLD CUP. 2022.

Qatar. A country you knew next to nothing about when it came to locations of hospitals. Your hands were shaking at the whispers Christian was being sent to the hospital. There was no crash course on what to do when your husband gets injured in the World Cup. You flip your phone over in your hands, making the decision to exit your place in the stands. The match had continued and you considered staying, knowing Christian wouldn't want you to worry, but that was inevitable.

"I was researching hospitals left and right, wondering where they would take you," You recalled, not missing the feeling of dread that overcame over not knowing where Christian was being sent.

"Still can't believe you took a fucking Uber in a foreign country to come and find me," he said with a snort. Christian's heart heated at the thought of it, his wife doing anything she could to come and find him. Even though he was delirious due to the pain meds, Christian had still found time to text you where they were taking him. You were in the next Uber to him the second the text hit your inbox.

MEN'S WORLD CUP. 2022.

You gazed into his room, a nurse patiently attempting to take his vitals as he held a thumbs up and snapped a picture of him laying on the bed. The match was on the TV still, Americans rallying to celebrate the valiant efforts of the team. A grin was plastered on his face watching his friends embrace each other. "It's called soccer!" Musah screams at the camera lingering by him, the saying a play at Christian's viral photoshopped meme. You revel in Christian's laugh before bursting through the door, the nurse just finishing his vitals.

"Hi baby!" He greets when you appear in front of him, the excitement of seeing you after a major win outweighing any logic as to how you got here. Sickeningly, he would do the whole thing a million times over just to be babied by you.

The memory is snapped when Christian once again returns you to the present moment.

"God, I don't think I've ever seen someone so proud of me," he said while laying a chaste kiss on your cheek. "I thought you might be upset or embarrassed about the whole situation, but I was incredibly wrong. My girl took pride in the fact her husband put their kids on the line for America."

"Hell yeah!" You chanted, pumping your first in the air. You laughed at the recollection of social media going wild after the event was over, fans wondering if their favorite football couple would still be able to have children. Talk about patriotic.

The fire crackled as a comfortable silence enveloped the couple once again, both of them in their own world thinking about heartfelt memories.

Christian, thinking about when he tied for the 17th International Goal Record in qualifying against Mexico, pulling up his jersey to display his celebration. "MAN IN THE MIRROR," his undershirt read in haphazardly written Sharpie, a true display of his poor penmanship. The moment froze in time, though, when he looked up from his shirt into the boxes and made eye contact with you in the crowd. He swore his heart stalled.

Along with the rest of the American crowd, you were screaming his name out for all the field to hear. His name, an action that had him transfixed watching the stands. You stared at him, shouting the three syllables of his surname, which were heavily enunciated so he knew what was being chanted.

He rose his pointer finger up at you, a sly wink in your direction catching the eye of the camera man. He followed the receiving end of the wink, and there, on the jumbo tron, was you turned around pointing at the proud PULISIC plastered on your back while he motioned towards you.

He took a swig from the bottle beside him to distract his mind from going down every single memory his heart held with you. It was a tempting offer. Christian watched you adjust so your head was in his lap, folding the blanket over both your bodies to fit. You scrolled through the Barnes and Noble app searching for a new book to read as Christian watched the stars twinkle in the night sky.

"Whatcha thinking about, Chris?" You pat his knee a couple moments later to catch his attention, noticing the dazed look in his eyes.

"You."

Your heart sped up at the word, confident it was now a puddle on the lawn. He continued his thought without being prompted,

"Thinkin' about that time when I scored my first ever goal in the pros and you blew me a kiss, and I knew right then that I was gonna marry you." He grinned wickedly down at you, "Thinkin' about that time I scored and the screens caught you with audio screaming I was your 'Captain America'. Hearing my own wife use the nickname was the only thing left needed to die peacefully." He gazes down at you lovingly, capturing your lips to secure the sentiment and sweetness of the moment shared.

"Those two moments you just described," you told him suddenly flipping to where you lie on your back, gazing up at his face. "Are some of my favorite moments too. I was so proud of you I thought my heart would burst, and I was wondering how much jail time I would serve for jumping the fence."

"Jail time?" He asked inquisitively with a laugh, "I don't know what'd I would do if security tried to manhandle you off the pitch for jumping. I wouldn't have enough time to stop laughing to help."

You both giggled at the thought of it. "Y'know after I called you Captain America on the 'tron, I sat back down and went on Amazon to get you a lego set of his shield. It didn't come in the mail until three weeks later because it had to be custom made."

He splits into a smile thinking about the gift, it sitting on the trophy case in the bedroom. It hadn't been moved since he placed it, being featured in personal interviews in zoom calls during lockdown. He took anytime to talk about it when given the opportunity, being his favorite gift ever. It was a fairly large shield, custom made and built with a "Pulisic" engraved in an arch into the middle.

He remembered when he unwrapped and squealed like a little girl, holding it in his hands like a newborn. "Baby, this is the best gift I've ever gotten! It's not even near my birthday!" You had come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist fondly.

"I got it 'cause I love you and I'm proud of you," you told him, leaving a sweet kiss in between his shoulder blades. He blushed under the praise. "Can I frame it?" He asks, gently setting it down on the kitchen counter. "Do whatever your heart desires, baby," you told him with a joyous expression.

"Y'wanna hear my memory, Chris?" You ask him while staring at the stubble beginning to grown in on his face. You take notice of an ingrown hair that needs to be removed before he starts itching and complains at the burn. He hums an affirmation, finishing off his beer.

"My memory is when you got that nasty turf burn after a Chelsea match, and instead of going to have the trainer clean it, you brought it home for me to deal with."

He laughs wholeheartedly, "What can I say? There's nothing better than being babied by your wife." You roll your eyes at him, appreciating his full honesty. Christian has no shame in his love for his wife.

You had freaked out when he walked through the threshold of your old shared apartment, his shoes squeaking on the freshly cleaned carpet.

"Christian!" You had chastised from the couch without looking up, "Take your dirty shoes off, were you raised in a barn!?" He doesn't respond, causing you to look up with a frustrated demeanor, before taking notice of his bloody knee.

"Christ, baby, I thought you would've gotten that looked at before you left the field," you said, beckoning him closer. Christian tries to not let the joy he's feeling show at the thought of you having to take care of him, knowing it's about to occur. He's a softie, what can he say?

"I needed my favorite doctor to look at it?" He tells you with a charming grin, phrasing it like a question in an effort to avoid a lecture.

You don't put up a fight, guiding him to sit in one of the dining chairs while you disappeared into the bathroom to get antiseptic and Advil. You pour him a cup of water, double checking to make sure you were giving him the right amount Advil. You always had an irrational fear of your star boyfriend overdose on it because of a misread by you. Satisfied with the information the bottle had given you the previous ten times you had read it, you reentered the battlefield, aka Christian's knee.

Meanwhile, Christian had been smiling like a fool at the TV running post-match highlights of his game. It was such a small thing for you to turn the matches on while working from home, but it meant the world to him. He knew you had probably sat on the couch with your feet tucked under you, the work iPad you lugged around resting in your lap as you worked. The TV was probably set to a low volume, not loud enough to distract you, but quiet enough so you could still listen for your husband's name. You wore an oversized Chelsea T-Shirt, his name adorning the back per usual.

"This is gonna sting," you told him drily, holding no sympathy for your husband at the moment. He had to know you were not qualified in any sort to be cleaning up a pro soccer player's wounds, but yet here you were at 11:30 on a Monday night.

"I have work tomorrow," you stated as you stared at the alarmingly late numbers on the oven clock, which motivated you to harshly rub the antiseptic onto the burn.

"Jesus, baby! Is it really necessary to do it this rough?" He asked you, biting his lip. You didn't respond, outstretching your free hand for him to squeeze which he took gratefully.

"You know, if the team trainer had done this it probably would've hurt less," you said through gritted teeth, taking one last swipe down the wound.

"Ok, ow! Fuck!" He whined at the contact and you rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to call him a big baby. You were not particularly inclined to be dealing with his antics this late, even though you loved Christian more than anything. You slapped a bandage onto the burn, placing a kiss to it, making the classic smile return to his face at the tradition.

"I'll make you breakfast tomorrow morning to make up for the fact I kept you up," he told you while sliding off the chair. You smiled at his words, always a giver.

"Baby, it's fine. You can if you want to, but I tend to your wounds and shit because I love you and want to take care of you." You gave him a kiss on the lips before handing him his water and Advil. "I put you out some sleep clothes after the game ended, I figured you'd be tired," you said while filling up your own water bottle at the fridge. Christian smiled like a fool, wrapping you into his arms for a proper hug once you were done at the fridge.

"God, I love you. Thank you," he said, placing a kiss on the top of your head before making his way to the shower.

One of your favorite things was reminiscing on moments like these with Christian, moments where the health of your relationship shown through. There were so many you could laugh about with him. Christian stood up after another stretch of comfortable silence, attempting to put the fire out to the best of his abilities. You folded the blanket up and placed his bottle in the trash facing away from him. You heard the whoosh of the flames going out, and then felt a tattooed arm wrap around you, scooping you up. He carried you into your house bridal style, a delirious grin on his face the whole way up the stairs, drunk on the joyous memories.

#christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x you #football x y/n #footballer x reader

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blue-jisungs · 4 months

Text

RADIO SILENCE ,, PROFILES (Y/N’S VERSION)

synopsis. hwang y/n and park sunghoon do not like each other. end of story. god knows why (well actually, niki is the only one who knows why). but when they’re put as co-hosts on a radio show, they’re bound to bond.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🎧 ꒱ y/n and the 6 dancing princesses | sunghoon’s version

Y/N (user y/nhaternr1) ;; y/n’s private account. rambles a lot, a little bit upset about the radio programme situation. usually goes on twitter to express annoyance.

HWANG Y/N (user y/nofficial) ;; y/n’s official account. she doesn’t manage it at all ever since (more than year ago) she lost the password but her managers didn’t seem to notice that. read more about Y/N [ here ]

MINHYUN (user truthorlie) ;; a 27 year old loser, does not understand twitter (and doesn’t even try to understand it). they met during hybe caterers in 2022… and then on set of alchemy of souls. y/n joked it was destiny. swears he hates y/n with passion but always ends up protecting her… and spoiling her.

SAKURA (user boomboomboomboo) ;; nr 1 y/n protector. will not hesitate to kick haters’ or even y/n’s ass if there’s even one hate word coming out of their mouth. was the first friend that y/n made ever since transferring to hybe (and due to the fact that they are under the same label, source music)

YERI (user notyerimiese) ;; y/n’s older friend back from her trainee days. the two clicked right away, a sibling-alike friendship forming between them. sometimes she writes songs for y/n.

JAEMIN (user nanajaemjaem) ;; back in y/n’s sm days, he used to be scared of her. in no time they somehow became friends and y/n is stuck with his lame jokes, even after switching companies. will do everything for y/n. why? probably because he always wanted a younger sister. they also sometimes play badminton together.

NINGNING (user y/nlvrbot) ;; loves y/n with whole her heart, a completely sane amount. was the first one to approach y/n when she started her idol journey at sm. they spend long hours on facetime, usually being the cause of their manager’s’ frustration (they couldn’t care less). often they exchange and share clothes, which doesn’t go unnoticed by fans

TAEHYUN (user user81829392918) ;; he, in fact, does not love choi beomgyu. probably the smartest in the group but often stays quiet, knowing that no one will listen to him anyways. often motivates y/n to go to the gym with him (if he succeeds, which doesn’t happen often, he laughs at her for being weak).

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🎧 ꒱ main masterlist

taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ocean-minho ,, @s-e-s-a-l-e-n-e ,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien

#RADIO SILENCE — ( smau )#sunghoon x reader #sunghoon au #sunghoon fluff #enha sunghoon #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x y/n #park sunghoon #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon angst #sunghoon series #sunghoon enhypen #enha smau #enha series #enha fluff #enha x reader #enha soft hours #enhypen smau #enhypen series

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a-room-of-my-own · 10 months

Text

Maggie* could barely believe the words she was reading in her daughter’s diary. But the words were real. And they were the first to finally explain the sudden mental health crisis that had captured her formerly happy, healthy, 12-year-old daughter.

The diary entry referred back to an incident in October 2021, when her daughter Ray*, a 6th grader at ASK Academy charter school in Rio Rancho, New Mexico, was allegedly raped inside the girls’ bathroom by an older biological male student.

(…)

Maggie only discovered what happened to her daughter several months after the alleged assault, when she was reorganizing her daughter’s room and stumbled upon her journal. After confronting her daughter about what it said, Maggie reported the rape to law enforcement, took her daughter for a physical exam, and began looking into the school’s role.

Maggie now believes the main reason a male student was alone with her daughter that day, and had the opportunity to rape her, is because the school had fully embraced gender ideology. Upon reading through school documents and talking with her daughter and fellow parents, Maggie learned that, without her knowledge or consent, ASK Academy had fully embraced radical gender theory into its policies and classrooms.

Ray, who is now 13, said the school fostered an ideologically far-left culture, which left little room for dissent. She said she felt pressured by teachers and faculty to accept the presence of men in women’s spaces, to keep her mouth shut about any feelings of discomfort, and to avoid doing anything that would be construed as “judging” someone who might identify as transgender.

It was these conditions that Maggie believes disarmed her daughter and enabled a male student to take advantage of the school’s “inclusive” bathroom policies.

(…)

According to Ray, ASK Academy had a policy of affirming students who adopted “transgender” identities, and supported their use of whichever bathroom or locker room facilities they preferred. Ray said this meant she was regularly forced to use girls’ bathrooms with boys, which conditioned her to lower her guard.

“A lot of the natural instincts, those emotions, those kinds of barriers or protective like walls that I had up, that school made it feel like those were bad,” she said.

(…)

She explained that she chose not to report the alleged assault and instead suppressed her feelings out of fear of being labeled a “bigot” by her classmates for calling out the “bathroom issue,” or being served detention for “bullying.”

Though she didn’t know the reason at the time, Maggie noticed her daughter beginning to exhibit signs of deep grief, anxiety and depression. She described it as feeling as though there was a stranger in their house. About a month after the alleged attack, Maggie started her daughter in therapy, where Ray insisted she was just being bullied in school. Once her daughter started demonstrating suicidal ideations, Maggie decided to confront ASK Academy and get them involved.

The school, Maggie said, dismissed her concerns. “They treated us like we were a problem when we tried to make them address issues our child was facing in their school,” she said, adding, “The school tried to say we must be doing something wrong at home.”

Watching her daughter become suicidal “for the first time in her life,” Maggie and her husband made the decision to pull their daughter from ASK Academy and enroll her in the local public school.

Several months later, on April 11, 2022, Maggie found her daughter’s journal, where she learned that Ray was not just being bullied in school, but had survived sexual assault.

Maggie and her husband sat down with Ray to ASK about the diary entry. When Ray finally opened up about being raped, Maggie immediately contacted Rio Rancho Police Department and their local Child Protective Services office to document and cross-report the case.

Rio Rancho Police Department began a criminal investigation, assigning a detective to the case who Maggie said was then supposed to work directly with ASK Academy. But to this day, Maggie said she isn’t confident that anyone from the police department or the school has even taken the time to review security footage from the time and location Ray thinks she was attacked.

Maggie was told by police involved in the investigation that progress on the case has been slow due to alleged staffing shortages. Recently, Maggie said the department assigned a new detective to the criminal case who she believes just began reviewing all of the previous detective's work.

It just sucks,” Maggie said. “I've been told in New Mexico, that these types of cases can take years to really come to fruition. I don't know how that's possible, but that's what we keep being told.”

IWF reached out to Captain Joel Holt of the Rio Rancho Police Department for comment, who confirmed that a criminal case is open and active. Cpt. Holt told IWF that while staffing is a factor in delays, there are other things which “potentially take time for an investigation,” but that their detectives are “working to do a thorough and complete investigation.”

In Spring 2022, by the time that Maggie started “raising hell” about her daughter’s alleged rape, she said four staffers from ASK Academy, including two top administrators, had left their positions at the school.

They're afraid of our case,” she said, adding, “They know what's coming.”

In addition to the criminal investigation, Maggie and her husband retained two private attorneys to pursue a civil case against the school, alleging ASK Academy didn’t have enough protections in place to safeguard their students, like Ray. Maggie said it took these attorneys nearly a year just to provide her family with forms to sign, however, so they are now in the process of signing a retainer with a new law firm.

The investigative and legal delays, both on the criminal and civil front, have left an alleged rapist loose at school with more than 550 students, free to strike again. To Maggie’s knowledge, ASK Academy never notified parents or students about the alleged incident or ensuing criminal investigation.

As the investigation continues to drag on, more troubling allegations have come to light.

In one instance dating back to July 2022, a 14-year-old female student at a neighboring public school was allegedly assaulted on her own campus at gunpoint. The girl identified her alleged attacker, whose name the victim’s mother shared with Maggie. After learning his identity, Maggie looked at Ray’s yearbook and discovered the male was a student at ASK Academy, and that her daughter had circled his picture with a big blue marker. When she asked about it, Ray said she recently had a “nightmare” where she remembered her perpetrator’s name.

IWF is not publishing the identity of the alleged perpetrator. However, in May 2022, the same individual’s name appeared in the subject of an email that a female student from ASK Academy sent to all fellow students years 2022 - 2026.

The email read:

"As of late we have had an issue with [REDACTED]. He has sexually harrassed, bullied, cheated off of and threatened people to get his way for his own gain. If you have experienced, witnessed or even had friends who've experienced this please, PLEASE write an incident report. The more proof we have, the better chance we can prevent this from happening to anyone ever again. Please dont hesitate to speak up. Get your parents involved as well, anything helps."

Though she had already left the school, Ray still had access to ASK Academy’s servers and was able to see the email. She and her mother heard from other parents and students that girls were taking it upon themselves to collect information about this student and personally take it to the school board, due to their perceived lack of accountability against a known offender.

Since leaving the school, Maggie and Ray said they’ve also learned of two additional survivors who were allegedly victimized by the same student, but are “too afraid” to come forward.

“We have learned that sexual harassment and assault was a commonly trending issue among the high school students at ASK Academy,” Maggie said.

“I feel extremely betrayed by them,” Ray said of the way ASK Academy responded to her allegations, along with those brought forward by other students. “For the past two years, I've had to accept that there probably won't be any justice.”

IWF reached out to ASK Academy’s Chief Executive Officer Edward Garcia for comment, as well as clarity regarding the school’s bathroom policies. Garcia said that ASK Academy is an “inclusive learning environment for all students,” and added the school does “not discriminate against any student.”

Garcia did not respond when asked to clarify whether girls’ facilities are open to biological boys.

While Garcia denied claims that sexual harassment and assault was commonly trending at ASK Academy, he also did not respond when IWF followed up by sharing a copy of the email sent out by students suggesting otherwise. He also did not respond to our inquiry about the existence of an open and active criminal case regarding an assault that allegedly occurred on ASK Academy school grounds, or offer any explanation as to why ASK Academy chose not to inform parents or students about the existence of such investigation for more than a year.

Instead, Garcia told IWF the school is “not at liberty to disclose confidential student information to a third party” and denied that any staff members left because of an open investigation.

Get Your Own Bathroom’

Today, Ray no longer feels comfortable using public restrooms and facilities by herself. At school, unless she’s with a group of girls, she uses a private bathroom in the nurse’s office, which she got special permission to do. She now needs medication to manage her anxiety and depression, keeps a knife closeby when she’s home alone, and has her family’s large, mixed-breed dog sleep next to her at night.

The entire situation has left Ray with little sympathy for efforts at the local, state and national levels to open women’s sports and private facilities to men who identify as transgender, or for the “trans” community itself.

“By them saying the only thing that matters is how they feel and not how I feel, is very selfish of them,” Ray said. “If they want their own bathroom, then gladly get your own bathroom. If you want your own sports, get your own sports. If you want to be included, be included in your own way that doesn't cause danger to everyone else.”

After a year at her local public school, Maggie and her husband decided their two daughters weren’t safe there, either. What solidified their decision was a law New Mexico passed in March that opened school bathrooms and locker rooms to individuals based on their “gender identity.” Maggie wrote to New Mexico Sen. Martin Heinrich, a Democrat, to express her concerns about the legislation, even sharing the account of what happened to her daughter. Her inquiry, Maggie said, was “met with a complete rejection of the notion that he would support anything that goes against gender affirming legislation.”

He’s all about it, and his letter to me was so appalling,” she said, sharing the correspondence with IWF.

IWF reached out to Sen. Heinrich for comment. As of publication, Sen. Heinrich did not respond to our request.

Homeschooling, Maggie and her husband have now decided, is their only option to keep their daughters safe given the state’s current legislative landscape.

“She’s just a baby,” Maggie said. “No parent, no child, deserves this unimaginable pain and lack of justice. Instead, our legislative session wrapped up with the governor signing numerous bills that remove parents’ rights to protect their own children and allow the schools to put my daughters in danger.”

While the Biden administration ramps up attacks over what it calls “dangerous anti-transgender” legislation moving forward in more conservative-leaning states, Maggie knows first-hand what happens when lawmakers move in the opposite direction, choosing to prioritize the small group of transgender-identifying Americans at the expense of women and girls. It’s for this reason that, despite the ongoing investigations, she and her daughter decided to tell their story.

“I just want people to hear us because it feels like parents aren’t paying attention, aren’t taking action, or don’t want to open their eyes to what’s happening,” Maggie said. “We had a nearly perfect life before this trauma. We grieve the loss of her innocence, safety, and how things were before she was assaulted.”

“We will never be the same,” she added.

#tw rape mention #feminism #gender critical #transgender #radfem please interact

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months

Note

AITA for calling somebody out for trying to pass AI art off as original art?

So, I (16F) am a fanartist. Somebody I follow reblogged something that looked like AI art to me, but OP described it as an original gauche painting. I saved the photo and ran it through several AI art detection websites that all came back positive. This pissed me off, so I decided to take action: 1.) I screenshotted the entire post and reposted it with a caption along the lines of, "This is not original artwork. This is stolen AI art." 2.) I direct messaged the five people who reblogged it with a similar message and 3.) I replied to the original post with the same thing.

Of the five people I DMed, one person (the person I'm following) deleted the reblog and expressed similar suspicions, one person blocked me, and three people took no action. And the callout post I made didn't get any traction, so (as far as I'm aware) this was entirely between OP and me.

Anyways, OP pretty quickly replied to me and called me a troll and insisted it was original artwork. I replied to them and said I'd run it through AI art detection websites that came back positive, but if they could take a photo of the "painting" in another angle, I'd issue a full public apology. OP replied again and said they'd sold the painting at an auction in the 1990s, but they'd try to contact the buyer to give me the proof. I went to bed and did not reply again.

The next morning, I discovered that OP had deleted all the "paintings" off their account (I believe it was all AI), so I deleted my callout post and decided to let it rest. Unfortunately, I soon discovered that OP had also released a statement (I think it was about a thousand words) about internet policing where they said they wouldn't post art online anymore because of harassment. They claimed that the painting looked weird because they'd adjusted the color gain in photoshop since the photo was taken in the 1990s. (If you know what color gain is, then you'll know that this doesn't make sense.)

I still felt fairly confident that it was AI art, but I started to feel guilty in the off chance that I was wrong and had singlehandedly convinced somebody that their art was bad and undeserving of being posted online. I cried for a while and talked it over with my dad who sided with me. (My dad is a philosopher so he's very knowledgeable about ethics.)

Then, I went to camp for two weeks, and when I returned, OP had still not provided any proof, so I blocked them.

Additional information:

OP uses their "real name" on Tumblr, but I couldn't find evidence of an artist using that name anywhere else on the internet, which seems strange since they've apparently been working professionally since the 1990s.

OP's oldest art post on Tumblr was from September 2022, which would've been in the height of the AI art craze.

OP has also posted property labeled AI art.

And, this is the real kicker, I later found out that the AI art detection websites aren't always accurate.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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alwaysxlarrie · 1 year

Text

favorite fics of 2021/2022

i love recommending fics & i love appreciating the talented, lovely writers in this fandom, so i wanted to make a list of my fav fics in 2021/2022. there are some longer fics that came out this year that i’ve wanted to read, but haven’t gotten a chance to, so knowing me i’ll make a masterlist of long fics or something bc i simply continue to be a slut for making masterlists & recommending fics idk what to tell u LMAO. anyway, these are in alphabetical order. sorry there’s kind a lot, thank u for ur time xoxo

are you taking clients? by @jaerie / jaerie

“Escaping had been the hardest thing Harry had ever done. They'd stolen his child and nearly stolen his life. Being homeless and pregnant gave Harry few options. It's a last resort to let men fetishize his body, but the luxury of choice is something Harry doesn't have.”

all your mates are here by @londonfoginacup / ladylondonderry

“"The pack is... It's folding, Harry."

Like every werewolf does when they get to a new town, Harry joined one of the many local packs when he started university. Now, three years into his program, he's hit with the news that his pack is giving up, going their separate ways. In the wake of the holidays, the three single wolves from the Majestic pack are pointed in the direction of a new pack to join; one that's got struggles of its own.

A new pack, a new house, and two new roommates with personal space issues... Plus exams, of course.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.”

babydoll blues by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain (venomedveins)

“Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?”

boy for sale by @ohpleaselarry / ohpleaselarry

“Three large cushioned chairs face him, each holding a suited man. Mr. Horan, Mr. Payne, and Mr. Malik respectively sit at these chairs, eyes on Harry as he steps up to the middle of the room, lowers fluidly to his knees, hands behind his back, and looks to each man one by one, neck prickling with the eyes all on him, on his nude body.

They’re all going to have him, and yet Harry only really wants one man here, and it’s the man who steps up behind him, sets a hand on the nape of his neck, right over his collar.

“Alright,” Louis says, voice raspy and authoritative, “Mr. Horan, you’re first. Would you like his mouth or his arse?””

between two lungs by @hershelsue / docklands

“Harry and Louis are graduating medical school. There's a big party and everyone has big expectations. All of Harry's are exceeded when Louis remembers him from a long time ago. They fuck.”

boom, boom, don’t you wanna go by anonymous

“It doesn't take much to convince Harry to participate in Lambda Sig's annual ceremony for graduating seniors. She's hooked up with a few of the brothers already anyway, as lackluster as they were. She has to have her legs and bare bottom half on display for the rest of the brothers in the senior class to see, but she's always kind of liked being played with and definitely likes being on display. She's graduating in a few weeks anyway. What's the worst that can happen?

She doesn't expect contestant number fifteen to blow her mind in the first round. He doesn't let up.”

caught in your gravity by @lululawrence / lululawrence

“It felt like the blood froze in Harry’s veins even as he got a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t even made it two practices, only one of which he was remotely in charge of, without giving it all away and now he and Liam were both absolutely fucked.

“Shit,” Harry breathed out. “Who all have you told? Does everyone know? I thought I covered it better than that…”

“No, no,” Louis said quickly. "They’ll figure it out soon enough, though, because they’ll get used to you changing things up, but you’re only going to trip over your so called Americanisms for so long before they realize it’s because you don’t actually know fuck all about football.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I figured. I just need to bullshit for long enough to allow Liam to get the situation figured out from his end.”

“Right, which brings me to my entire point. I think we can find a mutually beneficial arrangement with all of this.” Louis leaned forward. “You need to learn the ins and outs of the sport incredibly fast. I can help you with that.”

“What do you want in exchange?”

Or, an AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn't actually have much in common with the show at all.

counterculture by @sadaveniren / sadaveniren

“It all culminated to this: Harry in the middle of a crowded basement, music blasting from the live show on the far side, shirtless amongst alphas and omegas who all weren’t covering their scents. He took a deep breath of the heavy air and he felt alive.”

erva venenosa by @hershelsue / docklands

“Harry goes to his first all-gender party. There, he meets Louis, an eccentric bartender who claims to know more than he does. He turns Harry's world upside down.“

hint: i want to be yours by @greenblueish / bluegreenish

“Thinking back to Harry’s rut, Louis shivers, needing to put effort into keeping other bodily reactions at bay.

“Are you cold?”

While Niall’s been commenting through the entire film, Harry had stayed mostly quiet, so it’s a surprise when he speaks up, eyes zeroed in on the omega.

“Uh, yeah. It’s a bit chilly, innit?”

Niall shrugs, dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and seemingly unbothered by the room temperature. Harry doesn’t ask for an explanation though.

“You can have my hoodie, wait, here.” Before Louis can counter, Harry’s pulling the light grey piece of clothing over his head and handing it to the omega.

or, the one where Harry unconsciously starts acting like Louis' alpha after they spend his rut together and Louis finds ways to make sure Harry's affection doesn't end.”

hike up your skirt (and show your world to me) by anonymous

“Louis has a very hands on approach to training his new secretary. How else can he make sure Harry realizes his full potential?”

i can’t wait to see what you find by @non-binharry / enbyharry

“"What do you do for work?"

"I, uh, don’t. I don’t work."

"Cuckold’s got you well kept then, yeah?" Harry’s face morphs into a frown, adorable creases forming along his brownbone, and Louis throws up his hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry! Sorry! I’m just taking the piss. You can do whatever you like. I swear I’m not some judgemental prick." Harry’s expression relaxes. He wedges a hand between his crossed legs, looking down at the arm of his chair. "You do like it though, yeah? You know, the whole —" Louis cuts himself off, gesturing broadly to avoid overstepping on a dynamic he doesn’t fully understand.

"Yeah, I um. I do like it. I get off on feeling used for him. I only belong to him and he loves that, no matter how many hands I’m passed through."

"Okay, so what happens if I agree?"

Louis finds himself entering an interesting sexual arrangement with a happy, committed couple.

He gets more than he bargained for.”

i’ll be your new favourite tune by @harrystinyshorts / lsforever

“Louis gulps, all coherent thoughts flying from his brain as he unabashedly stares. There’s just so much to take in, from the silky curls springing out in every direction under some sort of headband/scarf looking thing, to the bright eyes and rosy cheeks and cute dimples that make the man’s - Harry, Louis reads from his nametag - smile so charming. He’s wearing a simple black shirt paired with some short jean shorts that only reach the middle of his thighs, and Louis has to force himself not to stare at those long, beautiful legs.

“You okay there?” Harry sounds amused.

Louis clears his throat.

or, Louis is the Pop Punk King of our dreams, and Harry is the cute associate at the rescue who helps him adopt a cat.”

it’s been ages by @2tiedships2 / 2tiedships2

““We need to talk,” Niall said as he plopped down on Louis’ bed. “It’s you and Harry. You like him, he likes you, it’s a match made in heaven and you will one day be mates,”

Louis shook his head in exasperation. “If you’ve been watching, you would see that Harry is interested in, like, alpha alphas. Not me.”

“What the fuck is an alpha alpha?” Niall asked with furrowed brows.

“You know what I mean,” Louis said, giving Niall a pointed look.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

i love this feeling (but i hate this part) by @lululawrence / lululawrence

““Stand up.”

Harry stood up from the couch, not a moment’s delay.

“Oh my god, is that what that’s like?” Harry turned to Louis, surprise on his face. “I really thought they were somehow exaggerating, but it really is an automatic response with absolutely no thought from me behind it whatsoever.”

Louis sighed again. “You really wanna keep doing this? Have me use my alpha voice on you so you can work on resisting it?”

“Yup,” Harry said, clapping his hands and smiling. “How else am I going to be able to have any chance at reducing the power an alpha voice has on me?””

keep me closer by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche

“Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

What he doesn’t expect is Harry to fucking drop.“

know you better. by @wabadabadaba / wabadabadaba

“It didn't help that oftentimes Niall and Zayn's other friend, Louis joined them and from all the stories Marcel has heard about Louis, he was positive they wouldn't get along. From their description, Louis was loud, annoying, and competitive. He liked to tease Niall and Zayn mercilessly and he was creative. Being a tattoo artist, Louis knew things about art that Marcel would simply never understand due to his analytical mindset. He was the complete opposite of Marcel and Marcel didn't think he would ever last in a social setting where he had to be with Louis.

or the one where Marcel and Louis fall in love.”

like air to the fire i need you to breathe by @larrydoinglaundry / cuckootrooke

“Louis is going to do this right. He is going to praise every little effort Harry has made and will still make with his nest, telling him how cozy and well put together it is. And practical, on top of everything. Despite being situated in Louis’ closet. But it has so many blankets, duvets and pillows that Louis will happily make Harry fall apart in that nest when he goes into heat.

… Well. He’ll try.

The thing is, Louis is sort of terrified.

OR Harry is in preheat and Louis is nervous about his upcoming heat, fearing that he might not be able to fulfill his mate's needs. Lucky for him, Harry knows how to push the right buttons to get him relaxed.”

lost in your paradise by @sadaveniren / sadaveniren

““To the alpha I fucked at the Ziam concert, I think this is yours.”

aka Harry and Louis have a one night stand.”

my service, your pleasure by @hershelsue / docklands

“Harry moves in with Louis, his childhood best friend. He had always enjoyed doing things for him, never putting much thought into it. What happens when they're in the same space all the time and Harry can't keep his hands to himself? Surely, his adoration bursts at the seams and a very suspicious Louis tries his best to keep up.”

making my way downtown by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface

““Bye, Harry!”

“See you tomorrow, hon!”

Harry turns in the doorway and waves before he hitches the strap of his backpack over his shoulder and steps out onto the pavement. He tries to ignore the pang of regret after he couldn’t muster a smile, knowing that the middle-aged women he works with love him and won’t hold it against him. The walk from the bakery to his apartment takes almost an hour, which is usually brutal after being on his feet for a full shift, but he decides to skip the bus today. Maybe the sunshine and light breeze will lift the mood that had taken a nosedive when he checked his phone after getting off work.

So Louis didn’t text him back. So what?

So fucking everything.”

milk kinship by @jaerie / jaerie

“Harry had aspired to become a wet nurse since first learning about the honored and respected tradition when he was a teenager. The first documentary he’d seen had been detailed and brutally honest and Harry had still fallen in love with the idea. It’s origins were rooted in highly regarded positions of the royal staff and were credited in playing a role in the lives of some of the most famous children in history. There were medically trained wet nurses and other milk services for mothers unable to feed their babies, but true wet nurse nannies could only be afforded by the rich and famous. The glamorous life appealed to Harry even if his understanding of his role changed to a more realistic view over time. As a starry eyed kid, that was where he wanted to be.

Or Harry is a wet nurse and isn't allowed to have an alpha. He may or may not break his vows.”

my pleasure (to make you mine) by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche

““Think about it.” Niall raises an eyebrow at him before amiably leading the interrupting customer to the other side of the store.

And the thing is, even a day later, Harry's done nothing but think about piercing his nipples.

Harry decides to get his nipples pierced. Louis is the piercing artist with a smile that breaks every rule of the universe.”

no one likes to be alone by @lululawrence / lululawrence

“Harry was a full-on fucking failure.

Letting out a whimper, Harry pressed his hands to his face as he finally allowed himself to cry. After a few sobs, he realized that something soft was pressed to his face, catching his tears instead of his hands. Harry pulled it away to see what it was and saw it was one of his sister’s shirts.

Shaking his head, he turned and placed it very specifically right where he usually tucked himself up against the wall. As he carefully shifted the shirt so he could see the faded image of Britney Spears looking out at him, Harry was overcome with a need he had only ever felt once before.

He needed to nest.”

opulence thrills by @brightgolden / brightgolden

““You know, it’s my first time bidding-”

“Bidding on people?” Harry supplies.

Louis snickers as he shakes his head, a small smile playing on his perfectly shaped lips. “You could say that, yeah.”

Where a well-versed submissive, Harry Styles has spent eighteen months in BDSM abstinence after an irreconcilable difference in kink preferences with his ex-dom, and a random winner for a charity auction might just be the one who brings him back.”

plenty of time by @juliusschmidt / juliusschmidt

“Harry gets into Louis' Uber. He's not in heat. Not fully. Not yet.”

picture this by @kingsofeverything / kingsofeverything

“Part of Harry’s job at the bar includes working the door on Friday nights, checking IDs and asking for proof of vaccination. One night, Louis Tomlinson accidentally shows him something else.”

sweet like candy by @neondiamond / neondiamond

“Louis is an Alpha with an odd obsession for gummy bears. Harry is an Omega who makes friends a little too easily. They meet on the bus.”

scent partner by @daggerandrose / amomentoflove

“The name of the company was horrible: Scent Partner. Whoever was on the marketing team should be fired immediately for green-lighting that name. But the instructions were simple.

Alphas wear a shirt for three days and nights. The shirt gets sent to omegas nearing their heats to pick the alpha who smells the best to them. The company notifies the alpha and gives them the opportunity to say no. If both parties agree, they meet at a heat room for the omega’s heat. Everything is safe and consensual.”

secrets don’t make friends by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain (venomedveins)

“5 times Louis' crew knew too much, and the 1 time they thought they knew, but didn't really. Not at all.“

single bells ring by @absoloutenonsense / nonsensedarling

“A holiday singles event is not where Louis wants to be tonight, but there he is, helping his best friend find love. Just as Louis is settling in, ready to have a terrible time, he meets the fittest alpha he’s ever come across.“

skip the small talk by @sadaveniren / sadaveniren

“"Your initial Result is that you are a service based submissive.”

Harry froze. James’ eyes were on him, boring into his soul. Harry had never felt so exposed. He wasn’t a submissive. He was an alpha.

“But I’d been so careful,” came out before he stopped himself.

aka Harry is an alpha that's just a little too soft to be a good dom but that's okay because Louis is an omega who is a little too rough to be a good sub.”

the lost art of breeding and (mis)behaviour by @indiaalphawhiskey / indiaalphawhiskey

““Strip, slave.” His voice was rough – stern, as a proper Master’s voice should be. Harry couldn’t help but feel pleased. “I could have had five of your kind for your price. Best make sure I’ve not been cheated.” -- Or, Harry learns a thing or two about fate and faith.“

the only one (when it’s said and done) by @londonfoginacup / ladylondonderry

“Louis Tomlinson, alpha, twenty nine years old, is head of the Tomlinson pack.

He's unbonded, and happily so. A trip to the neighbouring Arthur pack certainly isn't going to change that.”

there’s always another option by anonymous

“Harry gets all dressed up to go see his boyfriend with one goal: get railed. He doesn't expect his boyfriend's cousin to be staying in his flat, and he definitely doesn't expect his boyfriend to dip out to go cheat on him. Oh well, just because his boyfriend isn't there doesn't mean he can't still get what he wants.“

this is my jam by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface

“The guy’s eyes are so blue that Harry can’t tear his gaze away, even as he moves to the beat. The searing light shade is magnetic; he finds himself leaning in and yelling, “This is my jam!” only to earn a laugh from thin pink lips that Harry’s definitely going to be dreaming about tonight.

“Your jam?”

When the guy yells back over the music, his blue eyes sparkling and his lips twisted in a smirk, Harry’s chest literally puffs out with pride at earning his attention. His obvious approval. Tongue-tied, Harry nods and closes his eyes as he lets go, the music reverberating around them. All of the usual inhibitions that keep him in the corner at parties fall away and he bounces around the center of the dance floor, waving his arms above his head. Somehow his towel stays on, even as he starts to think he wouldn’t mind if it fell off. Fuck it. He finally made it here, he’s damn well going to enjoy it.

Harry goes to a gay bathhouse for the first time. 90s AU.”

the money mark by @brightgolden / brightgolden

“Harry's heart beats faster in his chest as the name sinks in. The Tomlinson name is awfully familiar, and he isn’t sure how many rich Tomlinsons are out here in London, but he knew one. Seven years ago.

Like all fine things in the world, Louis Tomlinson ages exceptionally well.

Where Louis is Harry’s first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.”

the risen by @creamcoffeelou / creamcoffeelou

“In search of the next breaking story, Harry goes off to do something no one else has been able to do: get the scoop on Louis Tomlinson and his devoted group of followers.“

the flower that blooms in adversity by @hershelsue / docklands

“Harry is twenty-six and he hasn't presented yet. He lives in London with his alpha best friend, Niall, who invites him to a New Year's camping trip with his other alpha mates. Amidst them, there's the always sharp Louis, who has a knack for observation and dirt under his toenails. Harry ends up agreeing on going, unaware he's leaving for the trip of a lifetime.“

venus as a boy by @hershelsue / docklands

“When Harry goes to a friend's movie night, the last thing she expects is to meet an enigmatic and handsome stranger who sweeps her off her feet. Louis might just think she’s the most wonderful thing alive.“

where’s the divide? by @2tiedships2 / 2tiedships2

“Louis brings potato salad to Niall's barbeque.“

wait by the light of the moon by @jaerie / jaerie

“Being a single parent of a newborn was not in Harry's plan. He can barely keep himself together doing everything on his own. He can't explain why he finds comfort in his neighbour next door, but apparently it's mutual.“

you’re shooting stars from the barrel of your eyes by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain (venomedveins)

“5 times Louis was gross hot and 1 time Harry was.“

you make the world taste better by @loveislarryislove / livelaughlovelarry

“"Nice to meet you," Harry said. "What can I get for you today?”

Louis rattled through the order – a couple loaves of different breads, some pastries, and a dozen cookies. There was a niggling sensation in the back of his mind that he was forgetting something, but he couldn’t think what it might be.

Harry nodded along as Louis spoke, starting to flit around the shop and gather things together. “Is that all?” he asked when Louis finished. “No muffins this week?”

That was it! “Oh yes, a half-dozen of the pumpkin and blueberry,” Louis said. “Almost forgot, thanks.”

“Of course,” Harry said, packing the muffins into a box. “I remember all my regular customers’ favorites. Your mother has good taste.”

Louis smiled. “She usually does,” he says. “I look forward to trying your goods myself, and finding my own favorites.”

~~~

Or, a story based on Hans Traxler’s fictional non-fictional text, The Truth About Hansel and Gretel, which is based on the Grimm fairy tale Hansel and Gretel.”

young hearts on the chase by @polaroidlouis / daffodilsforlou

“Before he can question him any further, Harry’s holding out a drink to him, ‘Louis’ written on the side of it with messy, pink letters. Warmth spreads all throughout Louis’ body when he takes it, starting from the tip of his fingers where they brush Harry’s to curl around the cup and settling in his chest.

“I also got us– um,” the omega starts, nervous fingers fumbling to get the paper bag open. “Got you an egg muffin. Or– or a normal muffin if you don’t like egg ones.”

“Who doesn’t like egg muffins?”

The smile that breaks across Harry’s face in response is as bright as the one yesterday. Louis almost expects it to be kissed into his cheek as well. It looks like Harry’s considering it for a moment, too, dreamy gaze gliding all over Louis’ expectant face. He seems to decide against it with a sigh though, and Louis’ not disappointed when they start walking side by side instead (he’s not).

harry’s a hopeless romantic, louis’ oblivious, and it’s going to be Valentine’s Day.”

if you read any of these fics, please don’t forget to leave kudos & a comment!!

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anticmiscellaney · 1 year

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no pressure to answer and im sorry if you've said this before but where did the title new/old/rare come from?

It's named after a very average record label compilation that I bought way back in 2002 because it included a song I couldn't get anywhere else by a band I used to go see all the time. I always liked the title and it seemed appropriate for this project for a range of thematic reasons, but also Blueline Medic came from a band called Caustic Soda, who wrote a song called Photocopied, which was the first song I successfully turned into visual artwork, and I discovered Jawbreaker from the sticker on the bass guitar when I saw that video on Rage one night as a teenager, and then when I finally saw Jawbreaker in April 2022 I came home and wrote this comic about Louis seeing them in March 1996, which led to me figuring out the overall story of what had up until then just been a series of loosely connected drawings.

Before everything was available on the internet, releases being old or rare often meant you couldn't get them, you might not ever hear/see them, and new releases may take months or even years to become available to you. Part of being into film and music was searching, archiving, collecting, sharing, bootlegging, waiting, and speculating. These days I likely wouldn't have to buy a whole CD just to hear one song. Smalltime local band singles are available on Bandcamp, not just at their shows. Archives of old or niche films are often hosted on streaming sites, or even lovingly restored and rereleased. This is all cool and I enjoy it, but it's new. Please remember that it's new, that in my relatively short lifetime it has changed hugely.

People have always cared and now it's so much easier to share these things, but there's still value in things being tied to times and places, in parts of life being ephemeral and transitory. I think you need external markers of times in your life that you can revisit or avoid as you choose, otherwise you'll end up adrift. Something being rare or limited isn't always bad; of course we don't get to experience everything we'd like to and it's important to pursue and value what you can. I pursued live music single-mindedly from when I was 12 or 13 until I moved overseas at 19, and while I've never stopped going to see bands or being very into music, that particular time of my life was unique. I can't replicate it and I don't want to because as much as I joke I've not changed (and wear band t-shirts I bought in 2001), I'm not the same person. I still remember though.

This story is partly about the balance between digging through the past and making space in your life for new things, about handling change and choosing what to let go, what to archive, what to keep, what to keep looking for. It's also literally about music and film.

Most of the places I used to go are gone now of course, and most of the bands have broken up and moved on. I'm gone too, I live on the other side of the world, but I like to put references in my work. I guess it's my way of saying this happened and it was important to me, these things other people made, those places, that time, they were small and brief but they mattered and I remember. Some things don't come back and all you have is memories of them, but sometimes bands who broke up in 1990 do a reunion show and you score a ticket.

Don't count on it though. Enjoy what you can when you have it, and if you miss it, don't dwell too much. Looking for the next thing to be excited and intrigued by is the best way to find it.

In the comic linked above, when Neil says they'll have a chance to see Jawbreaker together soon, he's wrong: Jawbreaker broke up a few months later and didn't play again until 2017. I think they would have gone together then though, I think they both remembered.

#replied #newoldrare

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smallpotatoknitwear · 10 months

Text

Shamrock Sweater #1

I’ve done two shamrock (before you @ me, yes I know that technically these are four-leaf clovers, not shamrocks, but I don’t want to hear it) sweaters, and this was the first! I started it in February 2022 with the goal of finishing it for St. Patrick’s Day that year… and then abandoned it halfway put together for a full year 😅 I finally got around to finishing it the day before St. Patrick’s Day 2023, and wore it for the next three weeks straight, before it got too warm out for such a heavy sweater!

This sweater was made using this granny square pattern. I made 48 squares and blocked them, then connected them in two 2x4 panels for the front, one 5x4 panel for the back, and two 3x2 tubes for the sleeves, then seamed the sides, attached the sleeves, and seamed the top. The sleeves turned out a tad shorter than I had wanted, so I did five rows of crochet moss stitch to lengthen them before doing eight rows of 2x2 knit ribbing for the cuffs. Around the bottom, sides, and neck of the cardigan, I did five rows of crochet moss stitch. I used a US size I hook for all of the crocheting, and US size 8 knitting needles for the cuffs. The color pattern of the shamrocks is a checkerboard; half of the squares were made with the same green yarn I used for the joining, border, and cuffs, but unfortunately I lost the label of it, so I don’t know the brand or color name—however it is almost identical to Loops & Threads Impeccable in Moss, if you’re looking for something similar. The other squares were made with Loops & Threads Impeccable in Fern, Moss, and Forest. The white yarn is Vanilla Glaze by Caron O’Go Donuts. If you want to make a pattern similar to this, I would recommend gridding it out, because I had the wrong numbers of some of the secondary colors, so the one sleeve doesn’t match up with the pattern of the rest of the sweater.

#crochet #sweater #cardigan #original post #shamrock #shamrock sweater #granny square #granny square sweater #shamrock granny square #handmade

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justalonelyslytherin · 2 years

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"You kept this?"

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female Reader

Warnings: none. fluff.

Wordcount: 1k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don't allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don't steal my work.

A/N: This is part of @flufftober's Flufftober 2022 and was suggested as part of my 300 Follower Celebration by @elle14-blog1. It's not my best work, but I don't quit things, so I have to deal with it. Dividers from @/firefly-graphics

Rustling. The clank of glass and porcelain clicking against each other. More rustling and shuffling. It felt like rustling was the only thing she could hear anymore. The constant crinkling of packing paper felt like tinnitus, a never-ending noise in the back of her head even when the movements had subsided.

That was the plague of packing, of moving, she figured. Days spent filling moving boxes, labeling them, and then moving on to the next one. Dismantling her home and everything she owned felt weird every time. But this would be the last move for the foreseeable future. Possibly forever.

Putting down the last over the wrapped-up plates, she listened. There was no more rustling sound which made her suspicious. Looking around she couldn’t spot Ransom anywhere anymore. Meaning he had to have gotten bored or moved to a different room.

“Ransom? Are you nearly done?” There was no answer and once more no other noises. It made her curious.

Ransom didn’t look up from the spot he was standing when his girlfriend walked into her bedroom. He was too focused on what he had found. His head shot up only when a hand landed on his shoulder, startling him.

“Ran? What’s that?” She asked him, biting her bottom lip and staring at the photos in his hand. It made him smirk. Oh, she knew exactly what he had there.

“Why don’t you tell me?” He asked her with a grin while he draped his arm around her. He pulled her to his side and pointed towards the small stash of things he had found hidden in one of her drawers. He’d always assumed she’d stashed out-of-season clothing in this one. But it seemed like she had hidden something entirely different.

There was no answer from her, only a small huff and then a whine as she tried to worm out of his grip.

“You kept this?” He asked her once more, allowing some of the surprise to lace his voice. Shyly she looked up at him and nodded. He could sense her hesitation and feel the way her fingers curled into the back of his sweater.

“Yeah, why not,” she mumbled with a shrug of her shoulders. Focusing on the pictures in Ransom’s hand she felt fondness. “They were happy memories for me-” trailing off she grabbed one of the pictures to take into her hand.

On it they were much younger, standing beside each other similar to how they stood now. Ransom had his arm thrown over her shoulder and her arm circled his waist, both grinning at the camera, behind them the buildings of their university could be seen. They had met there, at Harvard, and spent most of grad school being a pair. In Ransom’s hand were still some pictures. Particularly one picture of their last Halloween party before they had broken up, just shortly before graduation.

“Just because things did end between us doesn’t mean you weren’t one of my best friends. It was still a time I wanted to look back on with fond memories.”

Ransom grunted quietly, pulling her harder against his side as he looked at the photos. He had never regretted something more than their breakup. To him, it had been a miracle and his salvation when they had met years later. Out of pure luck and coincidence she had started working at Blood like Wine, their romance rekindled almost instantly.

Not much later, this time at Ransom’s place they were packing too. Since the size of his home was nearly double or triple that of her apartment they spent much longer collecting everything. In an effort to be a bit faster they had decided to start in different rooms, starting from two different ends of the house and working their way toward each other.

While packing up a random cabinet she stumbled upon something curious. Similar to her little memorabilia stash Ransom had just previously discovered, she found a small box that looked much familiar to her.

Carefully she took the box out of the drawer and lifted the lid. Inside she found multiple pictures, similar to the ones she had kept from their university time. What stood out to her even more however was a slightly yellowed, neatly folded paper. Her fingers grazed against the paper when a faint smell reached her nose. Her curiosity was piqued and she pulled it out. She knew that sweetly soft smell, she remembered it crystal clear. The perfume she had worn then.

Ransom had never been the romantic type but she had been. She’d loved to write him letters for his birthday or festivities like Valentine's Day or Christmas. Every letter she had spritzed with a pump of her perfume. It surprised her that traces of the fragrance still lingered on but what surprised her, even more, was that Ransom had kept all of that.

Suddenly two arms wrapped around her and pulled her back against a sturdy chest. A small yelp left her lips following it.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Ransom grumbled into her ear after he leaned down and rested his chin on her shoulder. With one arm he reached out and tried to take it away from her, she however wiggled, holding it out of his reach.

“You kept this?” She asked him, teasingly using the exact same words he had asked her. Ransom behind her huffed and tried to snatch the letter from her once more.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, finally reaching it. He ignored the small whine that left her and instead tugged the letter back into the box. It was quiet between them as Ransom put the lid onto the box again. With a small huff but a fond smile on her lips, she leaned back against him.

“Want me to start writing you some more letters?” She got no answer from him safe from a teasing pinch into her side.

“Continue packing,” he murmured into her ear but not without giving her a kiss.

#flufftober2022 #day 12 #knives out #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drydale x you #ransom x reader

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