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callsign-venus · 25 days

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For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw | Part III

Part I | Series Masterlist

Summary: It's time for Bradley to meet the family. Good luck :)

Word count: 5k

a/n: I started writing this in winter, and now summer is literally coming up on my ass lol. Shoutout to the southern hemisphere, this fic is in season there. But seriously, regardless of where you are in the world, hope y'all enjoy x

As your family barreled down the cabin stairs, you turned to Bradley. You weren’t sure you got the reassurance you needed when he looked up from fixing his hair in the rearview mirror, winked, and said, “Good luck, you’ll need it.”

You rolled your eyes and swung open the car door. As soon as your feet hit the ground, Tommy nearly tackled you into the snow.

Your brother was somehow still growing. Much to your annoyance, he was even taller than when you saw him last. Still, he smelled like your parents’ house, and being in his arms was like sneaking a slice of your childhood from behind the universe’s back.

When Tommy finally let you go, you didn’t have a moment to breathe before Georgia crushed you in another hug. You had forgotten how nice it was to be in the arms of the woman you would one day call your sister-in-law. Her reddish, curly hair tickled your cheek and her words warmed your core as she whispered in her gentle manner, “I’m so glad to see you again.”

Nora and Sabrine were waiting for their turn to greet you, Nora somewhat less patiently. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, sending her thick braid slapping against her puffy green vest. Sabrine was a stiller picture. She wore a soft smile, but her wide brown eyes narrowed, and she raised protective hand over her baby bump when she caught sight of the stranger unfurling himself from the passenger seat.

“Oh, guys,” you said. Your nerves were singing as you put the plan into place, no matter how much you practiced (which you were realizing wasn’t nearly enough). “I’d like everyone to meet my boyfriend, Bradley.”

Tommy cocked his head. “Boyfriend? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Nora took a step back, trying to fit you and Bradley together in a single picture. Sabrine’a gaze stayed hard.

From the porch, your Aunt Marnie called out, “Who’s the handsome gentleman in the driveway?”

You worried your fingers, shifted from foot to foot. It was impossible to force words through your teeth as your family looked at you for an answer.

Bradley saved the already sinking ship by rounding the car and slipping a hand around your waist, which made it as hard for you to stand as it was for you to talk. He stuck out his hand toward Tommy. “Nice to see you again.”

Tommy took his hand but looked at you with one eyebrow raised.

Though you were struggling to balance on two wobbly legs, Bradley’s hand on your waist was strangely comforting. He was the other half of this insane plan, after all. With his support, your words finally tumbled out of you.

“Surprise! I didn’t want to mention it until I knew I was sure but…” You rested a shaky hand on Bradley’s chest. “I’m sure.”

Your words thickened the mountain air as Tommy, Nora, and Sabrine tried to make sense of your surprise. Thank god for Georgia, who nearly tackled Bradley in a giant hug. Her decision swayed the others, who closed around him and welcomed him into the family by giving him too little personal space and too many questions to answer.

At least he handled it well enough that everyone’s attention was drawn to him, and you could slip away to unload the trunk.

Graciously, Bradley carried your luggage up to the cabin. Tommy, Georgia, and Nora swarmed him like summer bugs to a campfire. Even Sabrine softened and asked about your flight. You’d never brought anyone home, and you could safely assume they hadn’t expected you to bring a giant naval aviator to Grandma and Grandpa’s 60th wedding anniversary. You smiled, though the mountain air left you a bit breathless.

Auntie Marnie held the door open as you all piled into the cabin. The fire was flickering in the living room, chasing off the cold that trailed you inside. Hugs from everyone chased off the numbness of your skin. There was Grandma Sybil, who eyed Bradley with such suspicion that you were sure your ruse had been found out already. Grandpa Thomas, who tussled your hair and smelled just a little bit like cigarettes. Sabrine’s husband Matt gave you a ginger hug that couldn’t belie how new he was to the family. Owen and Addison gave you one big hug (they almost always move as a single unit).

Your parents saw Bradely (he was hard to miss), but they stayed focused on you.

“My baby.” Your mom’s voice coated you like a warm honey, though her words struck a chill through you. “How are you? Why didn’t you tell us about Bradley?”

“Umm…” Maybe it was more than just the thin mountain air leaving you breathless. “I just wanted to be sure before I told you all.”

It sounded more convincing outside, with the ancient pines to bear witness. In the living room crammed with people, your lie was somehow much less believable. Your mother’s eyes were cold as they searched yours, but they broke away when your dad enveloped you in a hug.

“Missed you, kiddo.” He kissed the crown of your head.

“Missed you too, Dad.”

But even if your surprise was on shaky ground thanks to Grandma Sybil and your mom, yours was not the only surprise. You were shocked — and grateful — to find that while Nora and Madison had summited K2, they had most recently embarked on a new kind of adventure.

His name was Henry, he had curly brown hair, and he was 3 years old. Grandpa Thomas had pulled out you and your cousins’ old toys, and Henry was playing contently on the bearskin rug with a Tickle Me Elmo and a smattering of Polly Pockets, some of the dresses bearing permanent teeth imprints.

In the current of people, you found yourself reaching for Bradley like he was a rock you could cling to in the storm. Like he was really your boyfriend. For his part, he grabbed your hand and didn’t let go, not when your dad clapped him on the shoulder and said “I trust you’re taking good care of her” and not when your mom locked eyes with him and only smiled.

You jumped in, despite the nervousness bubbling in your throat. “He’s taking good care of me, Mom and Dad. I’m very happy.”

“And I’m happy whenever she’s happy.” Bradley sealed the deal with a wink that left you studying the floor.

Auntie Elaine walked into the room like a force of nature, her cheeks permanently red, maybe from the freezing Alaskan winds. She clapped once, commanding everyone’s attention like you all were her sled dogs. “Come on, people, stop swarming the two. I’m sure they want to go upstairs and get settled.”

The knot of people around you loosened. You mouthed her a thank you, and she gave you a nod with the barest hint of a smile.

Bradley carried all your luggage up the staircase. Two flights up to your little attic room. It smelled like the vanilla cupcake body mist you wore every day as a teen — and it probably always would. The steeply slanted roof cut into the room, making it seem even smaller than it already was.

Bradley dropped the bags with several resounding thumps. Instead of his attention falling to the window which offered a glimpse of the lake, his eyes were on the full sized bed shoved into the corner of the room, the ceiling hanging low over it.

You rubbed the back of your neck. Your grandma had crocheted the pink, red, and blue afghan that dressed up the bed, somehow making it look smaller and more juvenile.

Fuck. It wasn’t like you could offer Bradley the couch if you were to be the perfect couple. “I forgot about this. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” Bradley chuckled. “Well, do you think they bought it?”

“I think so?” The room was so small you could hear the rhythm of his breathing. “I’m so happy Nora and Madison surprised everyone with Henry, though. Hopefully that means the heat will be off us.”

“Everyone is very interested in our dating life. Well, Georgia and your Auntie Marnie, at least. I told them we’ve been dating for five months, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You ran a hand over the solid oak dresser, your fingertips collecting powdered sugar dust. “They’ll probably want to know everything. It’s ok if there are some small discrepancies, as long as we look the part.”

His eyes finally ripped away from the bed. He took in the Raggedy Anne doll on your nightstand, the one Grandpa Thomas brought to the hospital when you were born. Your high school copy of Frankenstein laid open next to it, its worn pages exhausted by silly teenaged annotations. The bikini you wore last summer — bright red and studded with white polka dots — hung from the back of an old rocking chair. It clashed absurdly with the gleaming snow that frosted the pines outside. You fumbled to stuff it in the first dresser drawer you managed to fling open.

You were soaked into every part of this bedroom — from the shag rug to the yellow-wood walls. Bradley standing in it (his hair skimming the slanted ceiling) made you feel naked.

He tapped a plastic orange frame perched on your dresser. It was a picture taken from the lakeshore of you and Nat on a paddleboard almost a decade ago. Not five seconds after Tommy had snapped the photo, the two of you had plunged into the lake. But that was something you’d tell Bradley if you’d invited him into your room because you loved him, not because you were tricking your family into thinking you’d finally found someone.

So instead you said, “Are you ready to face my family again?”

“Am I ever?”

He held out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, you took it. Your fingers were a bit sweaty, but he gave you a reassuring squeeze as you two descended the stairs, the clamor of your family growing louder with each step. Your mind was dizzy trying to comprehend that Bradley Bradshaw was meeting your family. You’d daydreamed about this more often than you would ever admit. You just wished it was real.

You had to give him credit; he played the role of your secret-almost-but-not-quite-long-term boyfriend very well. He talked easily with your dad about the NBA playoffs. He withstood the questions Tommy lobbed at him about flying planes. He played dominos with you and your aunts. He helped Sabrine in the kitchen until he snuck too much cookie dough and she shooed him out. He made your heart flutter when he got on the floor and played trains with Henry.

“Choo choo!” He said as he pushed a bright red engine with a mismatched purple caboose down the wooden tracks on the living room floor.

Henry giggled and ran a yellow engine up Bradley’s leg.

You hid your smile with a sip of cocoa, but Bradley caught sight of you across the room and beckoned you to join. You sat next to him, a little farther than an actual girlfriend would. He closed the gap by circling an arm around you. You almost didn’t flush at his touch after spending nearly the whole day at his side. Almost.

Nora and Madison were watching the three of you from the love seat, Madison’s legs flopped over Nora’s, comfy silence stretched over them like a quilt. Your heart quickened at the sight of actual love. Bradley’s arm suddenly felt foreign against you.

Before your thoughts spiraled too far, Henry offered you a passenger car to play with. You set it on the tracks, but he shook his head.

“Like this.” He ran his train down Bradley’s leg.

“Hey,” Bradley said through a giant grin. “My legs aren’t train tracks!”

But your little cousin had given you clear instructions, and you followed them. A warmth rippled through you as the wheels of the toy train car gilded smoothly over Bradley’s sweatpants. He'd been comfortable touching you since the moment you’d met on a particularly rowdy night at the Hard Deck (because any friend of Nat’s was a friend of his). During that first bear hug, some part of him must have broken off and lodged in your heart, and you’d spent so long trying to pry it out or ignore it that it felt nice to actually indulge it. It wasn’t so much a splinter anymore as it was a shard of heat warming you from the inside. For the weekend, at least.

Someone stepped between you and the fire, blocking the heat. You looked up. Grandma Sybil was studying the two of you from behind her wire rimmed glasses.

“Dear,” her voice was clear like someone fifty years younger than herself, “why don’t you and Bradley come sit on the couch with me? I’d love the company.”

You tensed. You couldn’t remember if you warned Bradley enough about Grandma Sybil. You’d seen her question so many significant others, but that had never concerned you. Now it was Bradley’s turn, and he wasn’t even your significant other. But your grandma had already turned and was walking to her recliner, expecting you both to follow, so you let Bradley help you to your feet.

The two of you dropped awkwardly onto the couch. There was enough room between the two of you that you might have looked like strangers if not for the hand holding. With the fire and the oven on, it was really hot. And Grandma Sybil looked mightily unimpressed with the couple before her.

You scooted closer to Bradley, and he nearly pulled you into his lap. He gave you a look like Am I doing this right? The knots in your stomach knotted into more knots, but your grandmother held your full attention. She was the matriarch, and her judgment in your favor was crucial to keep up the ruse.

“Tell me,” she sat down on her recliner with a bit of effort, “Bradford –”

“Bradley,” you interjected on his behalf.

She waved you off. “What do you like about our granddaughter so much?”

You felt his breath catch a little. You clutched his hand in a death grip.

“She’s kind.” Bradley’s voice was steady. “She loves her family. I know she’ll always be there for me if I’m there for her. And when I first saw her, she took my breath away.”

Your heart swelled in spite of yourself, but Grandma Sybil seemed unconvinced, so you pipped in. “He’s a sweetheart, Grandma. He flies planes for the navy.”

She readjusted her glasses but didn’t say anything.

“He’s Nat’s friend.” You tried again.

“Oh, Natasha.” Grandma Sybil finally smiled. “What a great girl. How is she?”

“She’s doing good.” It was easier to speak now. “She wishes she could be here, but she had work. She’s very in demand.”

Grandma Sybil looked pointedly at Bradley. “And how do you know Natasha?”

“Grandma, I just told you; he flies planes for the navy.”

“It’s ok.” Bradley rested his free hand on your arm. He was getting good at this. “I work with Nat a lot. She’s the perfect person to have with me in the sky.”

Grandma Sybil adjusted her glasses as if she was seeing Bradley in a new light. “Well, if Nat thinks you’re a good fit for our granddaughter –”

“She does,” you said.

“– then welcome to the family.”

She struggled out of the recliner and took Bradley’s face between her hands. She gave him a kiss on each cheek, then did the same for you.

“I knew you’d like him,” you told her. “He’s a catch, huh?”

She ignored you and stared into his eyes. “You be good to her, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bradley channeled his inner military man and straightened like a flagpole.

Even if he didn’t realize, he was being good to you. Only an insane person, or a really good friend, would try to help someone trick their family this way. You felt bad he had go through all the pains of meeting his girlfriend’s family without the girlfriend, but he smiled down at you with his big brown eyes, still holding your hand, and you felt as if – just maybe – there was some piece of you lodged in his heart.

Before you could properly chase that thought out of your head, Henry started crying. Nora and Madison rushed from their spot on the love seat to soothe him. Their attempts weren’t really working, and his cries mixed with the clinking of dominoes and the clattering of pots and pains threatened to raise a headache in you.

Your eyes fell to the hot tub on the porch.

“Hey Bradley?” You asked under the current of noise.

“Yes?” Did you imagine the twitch of his upper lip? Had your grandmother actually rattled him?

It was ok, though, because you had the perfect relaxing antidote to his troubles.

“Join me in the hot tub?”

You hadn’t known if Bradley would bring his swimsuit that he practically lived in during San Diego summers, but he confessed he had because he heard Lake more than Tahoe. It wasn’t like it was freezing in San Diego, he argued.

You suppressed your laugh up in your stuffy attic room as he stood with the Hawiian print swim trunks in hand.

“What?” He said. “I’m using them, aren’t I?”

“I guess. In a 102 degree hot tub, though, not the lake.” You were pulling your bikini out of the drawer you’d crammed it in earlier.

You both stood, pink shag rug between you, holding onto your swimsuits and staring at each other.

“What are we waiting for?” Bradley grinned. “We’ve been dating for five months.”

You stared at him.

“I’m teasing.” That’s what he said, but in the same breath he pulled his hoodie and shirt off with one swift motion.

Jesus Christ, you forgot how good he looked without a shirt. Your lungs absolutely refused to fill with enough oxygen.

“Hey.” His expression softened toward you, the playfulness traded for something more reassuring. “I won’t look if you promise not to look.”

“Promise.” The word hung limp in the air as you both turned your backs and shimmied into your swimsuits. You stared out your tiny window as you pulled on the bikini bottoms, watching the snow glare in the sunlight and trying to keep your mind from the fact that you and Bradley were basically naked in your old bedroom.

“You ready?” He asked.

You were fumbling with the tie of your bikini top. “Just a sec.”

The seconds passed like drops of snow melt. You counted every one. As more and more slipped by, the clumsier your fingers became.

“Bradley, are you looking?”

“No, ma’am.”

You sucked in a deep breath, “I can’t get this top tied. Can you help?”

“’Course.” He passed over your rug and took the strings from your hands. His fingers were warm as they grazed your back. “Is this too tight?”

“No, that’s perfect.” You were lightheaded with his body so close to yours, his breath tickling the bare skin of your shoulders, his beachy scent cutting through the lingering smell of your teenage body spray. With a shock, you remembered your manners. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” He patted your shoulder. “Now, I think there’s a hot tub somewhere around here, and it’s got our name on it.”

The freezing air stabbed your bare skin as you and Bradley ran out the front door and across the porch to the hot tub. You both practically dove into it, letting the warm water bring feeling back to your skin.

“Can they see us?” Bradley nodded towards the cabin windows from the opposite side of the tub.

“Most definitely.” If you stole a glance, you could see at least five of your family members watching you two from in front of the fireplace. “Are we selling it?”

He chuckled. “Not at all. We look like strangers. Could you get any farther from me?”

“Sorry. We’ve only been together every minute since 6:15 this morning.”

His expression flickered, but before you could figure out with what, it flattened into a smile again. “Well, do you want to convince your family or not?”

“I do.”

He opened his arms. “Then get over here.”

You swam over to his waiting arms and settled practically in his lap.

“What are we doing?” You asked, laying your head against his chest, careful to not lean too much of your weight onto him. Careful not to let your heart beat out of your chest.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I’m having a great time in Tahoe.”

“Sorry about my grandmother.” You drifted your hand along the surface of the water.

“She just wants to know you’re ok. And I was more than happy to reassure her.”

You opened your mouth – to say you weren’t ok, look at what you were doing – but heavy steps along the deck stopped you. You turned to see Tommy and Georgia in swimsuits made of the same matching green gingham fabric.

“Mind if we join?” Your brother asked, but he was already climbing over the side of the tub.

“Sure,” you answered, though you knew he wasn’t actually asking for permission.

Georgia slipped in after Tommy. She smiled with a hint of apology in her green eyes. “Thanks.”

For a moment, no one said anything. Tommy and Georgia sat across from you, fitting against one another like puzzle pieces. He draped an easy arm over her shoulder, and she entwined her fingers with his without thinking. No asking for permission. No awkwardness here. You suddenly felt very aware of Bradley’s hard body against yours.

Slowly, conversation eased around you all. Tommy and Georgia talked about school – over on the east coast – where he was studying accounting and she was studying biochemistry. Bradley talked about working as a pilot, deployments on aircraft carriers, and the general tomfoolery he and the Daggers got up to. Tommy said Sabrine was upset that her child wouldn’t be the first grandchild after Henry. Georgia said your grandparents were upset because Owen and Addison were leaving tonight. Something about having to miss the anniversary dinner because it’s her mom’s birthday, and they’re celebrating in the Bahamas.

You spoke a little, but mostly you basked in the soft silence the conversation afforded you, counted icicles hanging from the eaves, and tried not to think so hard about relaxing into Bradley’s body. If Tommy and Georgia couldn’t be fooled, it was hopeless.

“So…” Tommy gestured with his and Georgia’s hand at the two of you. “Who said I love you first?”

“What do you mean?” Your voice came out cold and sharp like the icicles above without you meaning to.

Bradley put a reassuring hand on your thigh. You hadn’t meant to get defense, and your brother raised his eyebrows at you.

Georgia kicked a foot out of the water, showing off her pink toenails. “They say you can tell a lot about a couple based on who said I love you first and when.”

“Who says that?” Your voice was softer.

“We do.” She and Tommy said in sync.

“Well,” Bradley started before you could say anything and make it worse. “I did. We were at our usual bar. I was a little drunk, and she just looked so stunning I couldn’t help myself, so –”

“It was charming,” you said. “He played our song on the piano. It was so romantic.”

He nodded. “A little embarrassing too. All our friends were there.”

��It was sweet, though.” You kicked him lightly under the jets. You were supposed to be the perfect couple, why was he trying to play up his embarrassment of an event that never actually happened?

“Charmingly, embarrassingly sweet.” He settled on the story and you nodded along.

Georgia asked, “What’s your song?”

“Oh, umm, what’s it called, sweetie? It’s…” You looked at Bradley, suddenly blanking on every song title ever.

Bradley looked up, the gears in his brain so obviously turning you didn’t think Georgia or even Tommy would buy your relationship. Finally, he snapped his fingers. “It’s called Great Balls of Fire.”

Ok, so he had blanked on every song title as well if the only one he could pull out of his ass was the one he played every weekend night at the Hard Deck. At least you were equally hopeless at thinking on the fly.

Tommy and Georgia nodded slowly. When it was clear neither of you had anything else to add, Georgia asked, “How long were you dating?”

“Three months,” you said at the same time Bradley said, “One month.”

Confusion spread across their faces like frost over a window.

“Well, it’s kind of funny…” You trailed off when you couldn’t think of a kind of funny explanation.

“We’d known each other for three months,” Bradley picked up your slack. “But had only been official for one. But we’ve been in love from the moment we laid eyes on each other, so the math gets complicated.”

He squeezed your thigh, and the condensation of your breaths mingled in the late afternoon sun. Panic prickled your skin. If only he’d known how true his words rang, if only for you.

Luckily, Tommy and Georgia began talking about how they met in high school algebra class, and the conversation steered safely away from the topic of your relationship.

When the sun set, everyone jumped out of the hot tub and raced back into the warmth of the cabin. You and Bradley took turns warming up in the shower and had your fill of the pizza Grandpa Thomas ordered.

Owen and Addison left the cabin with giant suitcases and sheepish smiles. Grandma Sybil’s anger burned brightly as they walked out the door. She launched into a diatribe about ungrateful grandkids. Funnily enough, her audience was made of her grandkids who had cared enough to stay. You swapped we'll-talk-about-this-later glances with your cousins. After a few awkward minutes, Grandpa Thomas ushered her to bed.

Everyone was quick to say their goodnights after that. You and Bradley headed up to your room. Only to be greeted by the problem of your full-sized bed.

“I could sleep on the floor,” you offered, unable to bear his silence.

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I can do that.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to sleep on the floor, but Bradley had already done so much for you. He withstood Grandma Sybil, lied in front of your whole family, and the fact that he was even in Tahoe to begin with was still blowing your mind. You could take the floor for him.

“Seriously, get comfy in bed.” You pulled down the afghan and the comforter and fluffed the pillow a little. “I’ll grab some extra blankets.”

You slipped out the door before he could protest. You snuck down to the second floor where the linen closet was, just outside your parents’ room. You twisted the knob carefully so as not to alert them, but the closet door whined open anyway. You gathered whatever sheets and blankets were on top and shut it quickly but quietly.

Just when you thought you were in the clear, your mother opened her bedroom door. “Honey, it’s late. What do you need?”

You both glanced down at the abundance of quilts and sheets bundled in your arms. You had to think of an explanation, quick.

“Well, Bradley gets very cold at night. And it’s drafty up there.”

Your mom crossed her arms over her chest. “You used to complain all the time about how stuffy it was in your room.”

“That’s true.” You laughed and couldn’t meet her eyes. “I guess I run colder now than I used to.”

She looked at you over the frames of her reading glasses.

“Well, goodnight, Mom.” You turned to run back up the stairs.

“Honey?”

You swore silently but turned around.

“Is everything ok?” She asked. “You’ve been acting a little strange ever since you got here.”

“Oh, nothing’s the matter. I’m fine. I’m fine. Just, work’s been crazy, and with Bradley meeting the family, it’s been really stressful.”

“Ok.” Her face, which you’d known your whole life, was unreadable. “Let me know if I can do anything for you. I love you.”

“Love you too. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

When you were little, Sabrine would tease you by telling you the cabin was haunted. With the way you raced back to your room, it might have well been.

Bradley – damn him – was lying on your rug by the time you got back.

“I told you to take the bed.” You dumped the blankets onto the ground.

“I know.” He sat up and started grabbing the discarded blankets. “But I’m a gentleman. Take the bed.”

You were beyond tired. It had been a long day, and Bradley was already cocooning himself in blankets on the floor. An argument now would just draw out the inevitable.

You sighed. “I’m giving you the bed tomorrow night.”

“Whatever helps you sleep better,” he mumbled.

You turned off the lamp. It was as stuffy as it always was in your room, but you fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Sometime in the night, you woke to a shadow looming over you in the moonlight. You yawned and rubbed your eyes, thinking you were seeing things, but the shadow only solidified as your vision adapted to the low light. It was a tall, Bradley-looking shadow.

“Move over.” His voice was gruff with sleep.

You scooted toward the opposite edge of the bed, too tired to complain or ask questions. Your ancient bedframe squeaked as you shifted, practically screamed when Bradley sank onto your mattress.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled as a way of an explanation, but you were too sleepy to need one.

Your bed kept squeaking and groaning as the two tried to settle in without bothering the other. There was a small tug-of-war with the blankets. You lost because really, there was no way to win against Bradley in feats of strength.

You smiled to yourself in the darkness. Bradley Bradshaw was in your bed. He wasn’t touching you, and he stole most of your blankets, but he was in your bed.

His snoring filled the room as you drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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7habitsofhighlyeviceratedpeople · 4 months

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Helpful master list of links for Palestine

Ceasefire Petition

Daily click

Support for displaced families in Gaza

E-sim donations so people can use technology

Menstrual hygiene kits

urge ICJ to invite journalist to testify

FREE MANSOUR FROM THE IDF !!!! URGENT AND ALMOST TO THE 50k GOAL

Send in any links that you think can help 🔗

#will update when i get more links #don’t let this flop please #free palestine #free gaza #palestine #ceasefire #ceasefire now #permanent ceasefire #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #🍉#fuck isnotreal

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your-official-gingerartist · 4 months

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Hay y’all I’m going to be opening commissions. If you donate to care for Gaza, direct aid for Gaza, feminine hygiene kits for Gaza or send an e-sim to e-sims for gaza I will do commissions.

I’ll have a limit of 10 slots open at a time and these comms are going to be a minimum donation of $10 or more!! And that’ll get you any type of commission I have listed on my sheet!

Please dm a proof of payment/receipt to me along with what you would like me to draw and a reference of the character.

Here are things I will and will not draw such as-

I will draw

Oc x canon

Self ship

Furry

Robots if not too complex/ or if it’s ok to simplify the character

Will not draw

Nsfw

Hate art

Gore

Fetish art

I have the right to refuse a commission BUT we can discus a different drawing to have made if I’m uncomfortable with something that maybe I didn’t think to list!

Below will be the links for you to donate to and there is a tutorial on the e-sims website on how to buy/send an e-sim to gaza!!!

Care for Gaza

(I’ve put both ways you can donate to care for Gaza the go fundme is on a pause currently )

Direct Aid for Gaza

Feminine hygiene kits for Gaza

E-Sims for Gaza

There is a tutorial on e-sims for Gaza right on here website high lighted in red if your intimidated by buying an e-sim!!

#Gaza #palestine #care for gaza #direct aid for Gaza #esims for gaza #donations #commissions #open commissions #commissions open

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d0omzdayfursuitz · 3 months

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Honestly, kosa is really bad. i could be able to deal with it, though. I'd just stop using the internet. I'd stop talking about cannibalism on roblox and my fursuit buisness i'm planning would be in-person, but i am in a place of comfort. I am a white kid in a comfortable financial position and i dont need any help escaping any sort if abusive behavior. We need the internet to help kids be able to find safe spaces. For abuse victims to get help, for people raised in cultish conditions to realize that this is a problem. I cannot stress this enough, however much i can survive in a situation, i am a privileged person. I am not poor. I am not black. People will suffer and i will do my best to help them survive it, but i am privileged. I have not experienced this hardship, i can only offer help and support.

Here are some links to help that i've gathered from other blogs and sources, along with multiple other organizations that still need attention. If you are suffering actively in this issue, i will put your words on my account. The people experiencing the problem know better than the onlookers.

#stop kosa #kosa bill #fuck kosa #free palestine #free gaza

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bugsnaxed · 1 month

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Hey, I know this isn’t Bugsnax related but this is one of my larger platforms, and I feel like I should use that to spread some donation links for Palestine. (You don’t even need to donate money for the last link)

This is a genocide unfolding right in front of our eyes, and I strongly urge everyone to do what they can to help. Through boycotts, protests, or donations, everything matters. Do your research over where you put your money. The main targets of the boycotts being Disney, Starbucks, and McDonald’s.

Please pay attention to Palestine, listen to those affected, and keep your eyes open. This cruelty will never be forgotten. We will see a free Palestine.

#skully speaks #palestine #free palestine #palestine will be free

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littlelunarrunaway · 1 year

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A possible picnic

“Hey Lunar have a good defrag?” Eclipse asks.

They both pause as they hear a knocking on the door.

“I’ll go see who it is.”

Eclipse opens the door to meet the Chica look alike. She tries to glance around him.

“Um Hi, I’m Sabrine. An entertainment model. I just moved here with my partner and I was wondering if maybe we could all get together to have a picnic or something?”

Eclipse leans against the doorframe towering over her. Unimpressed at the younger bot’s suggestion.

“Look sabine?”

“Sabrine.”

“my counter part and I don’t need to eat and unlike your particular model who is able to use human food as a food source. Most daycare models aren’t equipped to handle more than a few occasional treats, to keep the kids happy. Maybe we could arrange something but I doubt a picnic will be it.”

“Oh you mean that little lunar robot. Shouldn’t you call him by his name rather than his model?” Sabrine asks.

“He creators decided to be a little too on the nose.”

Sabrine lets out a little unsatisfied squawk at that.

“I know. But still.”

Eclipse pauses as he hears the soft scuffle of metal on carpet. He turns around to see lunar peeking curiously behind him.

Sabrine waves nervously. Lunar seems to get small stars in his eyes. His tail waving back and forth.

“you want to go on the picnic don’t you?”

Lunar nods in determination.

“Well there’s your answer.”

Sabrine giggles a bit.

“you’re so cute. It thought lunar models were supposed to be the big scary ones.”

Eclipse rolls his eyes.

“Don’t worry I’ll bring some delicious treats for all of us to enjoy.” Sabrine assured the two.

As eclipse closes the door he looks to Lunar.

“Are you sure about this you haven’t really meet with anyone outside of work since you arrived.” Eclipse asked.

Lunar nodded in determination.

“If I’m gonna live here. I have to make friends. Right?” The determination in lunar’s voice faded at the last word.

#fnaf au #fnaf fandom #sams au #sams lunar #alternate dimension #the sun and moon show #eclipse #fnaf fanfic #sun and moon show

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storystartsanew · 8 months

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It hadn't been easy with the crying, but Sabrine finally found herself outside Ozwell's door, not to the shop but to the loft again, sobbing as she knocks hard, bangs against the door really, trying to bring herself under control and unable to, sobbing harder. "Ozwell!"

Ozwell jumps a bit when he hears the banging, but jumps to his feet and rushes to the door when he hears Sabrine yell his name. He throws it open, barely taking a second to register that she's upset before he's pulling her into the loft and holding her tight. Curse and feud be damned. She's his friend, whether she likes it or not, and he's worried about her. "Hey, hey, I've got you. What's going on?"

#spiteful prince: ozwell of oz #thread: here again

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end23 · 6 months

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Tizechss ideas

A old musiahion makeing his body into a one man orgistra

And old elder who Thro series of circumstances is forsed to be a thin-blood

A tizemchis who whants to open the best cafe ever and may need some help runinng it

a mecha inthosist trying to make people into mechs and realy whants a wherewolf

A tizeches doctor who 100% is hiding several sabrin but is so good no one found them yet

A 100 year old dungen master who has open uped a dnd insperied death game

#another good vampire post #vampire the masquerade #vtm #world of darkness #tiz

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nxttheendxfthestxry · 2 years

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Double Open Starter: Noted (Sabrine/Stina)

“You see Aneela and Hemlock are in town?” Sabrine remarks idly as she works on her homework.

Stina’s eyes pull from her computer screen, pausing, staring blankly at Sabrine for a minute, not sure how to respond. It wasn’t like Sabrine to--

“Yes, you, unless you see another stunned child of Hades around,” Sabrine interrupts Stina’s train of thought, eyes flicking up to her a minute before turning back to her work.

Stina clears her throat. “I knew about Hemlock, didn’t see Aneela was back too.”

“Can’t imagine what kind of trouble that’s about to spell for us,” Sabrine nods a bit.

Stina clears her throat. “Yeah, you’re right about that. It’ll be something. I feel like there needs to be like, a group chat for everyone to just warn each other.”

Sabrine lets out a laugh at that, the obvious witch’s cackle drawing more attention than Stina would like if she’s being honest. “If everyone weren’t so chicken about it, we could just do that in the town-wide group chat and rile up some of the prissy little AKs for the hell of it all.”

Stina clears her throat as someone looks over at the pair, looking down anxiously a bit.

#the wicked shall rise || sabrine #sabrine / open #daddy's money and mama's good looks || stina #stina / open #thread: noted

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cepetriwrites · 9 months

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Miraculous Lady Knight

A/N: This fic is inspired by a prompt from @hi-imgrapes. "knight in shining armor Kagami x Princess Chloe but with sass"

I hope you like this. This is probably much more historical than you expected.

~~~~

A/N: I'm only on season 3 of ML, but every character is living in 12th century france so does canon even matter at this point? ~~~~ Princess Chloe of the Capetian Dynasty is on her way to marry her beloved Adrien of Toulouse. Escorted by an entourage of knights to ensure she arrives to her destination safely. When unexpected events occur, Chloe will be left with only one knight to protect her. Kagami, an onna-musha, must now transverse hundreds of miles of unfamiliar territory, avoiding bandits and kidnappers, to deliver Princess Chloe, the most spoiled person she has ever met, to her betrothed. The biggest challenge for the duo? Trying not to kill each other before arriving.

Read Here

***

Chapter One: Utterly Ridiculous!

The year is 1142. It is the fifth year of the reign of King Louis VII of France. Tensions are rising in his kingdom, and he is at war. He hopes to gain an ally through his sister’s upcoming marriage.

***

“Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” Chloe angrily strode through the castle hall, her lady’s maid trailing behind her. Two footmen stood outside her brother’s chambers, one attempted to stop her, but the girl paid no attention to them, and threw open the solid oak doors. No one, especially a lowly servant, could command her, she was a princess after all. A princess on a warpath.

“Louis!” She screamed, turning into the private offices.

“Mon Dieu, I told you not to let her in!” Cried the target of her rage, who was sitting at a desk, surrounded by his advisors.

A man wearing the simple adornments of a monk stepped forward to intercede, “My Lady, His Majesty is too busy-”

“Zip it monk!” Chloe strode up to the ornate desk, slapping her hands on it, “What is the meaning of this betrayal, brother?”

Her brother sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead, as though he was trying to banish a headache, “Chloe I am dealing with affairs of the estate, I do not-”

“This is an affair of the estate! And it is more pressing and important than whatever charter your balding advisors are droning on about.” The comment earned her disgruntled murmurs from the men in the room.

“I am at war with the Pope!”

“And you will still be at war with the Pope next week, whereas I will be heading for Toulouse before the end of this week.” How dare her brother let his petty grievances impact the most momentous time in her life!

“Chloe-” Louis tried to interrupt her ranting.

“I was in my quarters supervising Lady Sabrine’s supervision of the maids packing my things and imagine my surprise when I learned I will not be making a detour to Champagne to purchase a new wardrobe. No, my brother Louis, King of the Franks, intends to send me to my future husband in rags!”

“You are wearing a bliaut made of the finest wool!” He gestured to her clothes, punctuating his attempt at a counter-argument.

The Princess looked down at her dress, a navy-blue pleated tunic with a flowing skirt and trumpet sleeves. A girdle made of silver accentuated her waist. She looked back up at her brother, “This is used Brother. You want me, Princess Chloe Capet, to WEAR A USED DRESS AT MY WEDDING?”

The advisors flinched at the girl’s shrieking voice, the King considered his sister for a moment, deciding on the best reply. “I must go pray.” He stood up and with a speed not quite dignified for the King of the Franks, hurried out of the room.

Chloe gathered her skirts and followed after him, “You cannot avoid me, Louis! I know where the chapel is!” Not God would not be able to spare Louis from her wrath. Why, if the Messiah had His Second Coming in this moment, Chloe knew He would take her side after seeing how badly Louis was neglecting her needs.

The King and Princess were trailed by their servants and companions, every courtier they passed stopped and bowed or curtsied in acknowledgment of the royals. Neither paid them any mind to court attendees. Louis was solely focused on seeking shelter in the chapel, gripping his rosary in his right hand, already muttering a prayer under his breath. Chloe was solely focused on berating her brother until he reversed his selfish decision.

“Why are you praying so much? You’re under an interdict.” Chloe reminded her brother.

“The interdict bans me from Church and receiving sacraments, not private prayer.” He said in an irritated voice, he was still smarting from being unable to take Communion on Sunday.

“You spend too much time in chapel, you’re not going into an ecclesiastical career anymore you know. You do not have to meet a daily quota.”

“I find it enriching.” Louis replied.

“You know what you should find enriching? Spending time in Eleanor’s chambers.” She saw her brother turn a flushed red of embarrassment that made the Princess want to roll her eyes. “To do… what your are implying… on a holy day is a sin against God.” Despite being a King, he acted as though he was a monk. Chloe knew of no other person who faithfully followed adhered to the sanctioned days of procreation the way Louis did.

“And that is why you’ve been married for five years and have zero heirs.” Some courtiers whispered about the failing of his wife, but there was not much she could do when her husband visited her once a week, when she was fortunate.

“This is not an appropriate subject for a lady.”

“Producing heirs? That is the most important role of a lady, and I intend to perform my duty well, which is why I need to go to Champagne!” If my husband is as devout as Louis is, she thought to herself, I am getting an annulment.

“Enough Chloe!” Louis snapped, unable to handle the impropriety of being criticized about his bedroom habits by his unmarried sister. Even though someone had to do it.

“Good morrow dear husband and sister,” a lively voice cut in, both heads turned to see Louis’ wife, Queen Eleanor, the Duchess of Aquitaine approaching with her own retinue of ladies-in-waiting. “It is nice to see you two spending time together before our dear sister Chloe departs for her wedding.”

Chloe sniffed, letting fake tears well up in her eyes. Louis loved pleasing his wife, in some ways, she intended to use her against him, “Well I hate to disappoint you sister, but we may as well cancel the wedding, since my brother wants to disgrace me by sending me in tatters!” She started bawling dramatically, and her ever attentive lady’s maid quickly dabbed at her eyes.

“Don’t cry my lady!” she fretted, almost as distraught as Chloe.

“We are not cancelling the betrothal!” King Louis said, real fear in his voice. He turned to one of his advisors, “Find my mother, tell her it’s happening again.” The advisor started hurrying down the hall to fetch the Dowager Queen.

“Did Father force Eleanor to be dressed in rags when you married her?” Chloe asked, her voice wavering as tears continued to well in her eyes.

Louis looked at his wife beseechingly, his wife took sympathy and stepped in to placate her sister-in-law. “Chloe you are aware this situation is different.” Chloe tried not to scowl at the traitor to women’s needs. Where was the solidarity?

She sniffed, “I am not! Why should Louis’ tiff with the Pope impact my travel to Champagne? It’s ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

Eleanor’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Chloe, you are aware of the situation, are you not?” Of course she was! She had been hearing her brother complain about the Pope’s actions all week. It had made for a boring week at court.

Chloe waved her hand, “Yes, the Pope appointed a new Archbishop of Bourges, some Pierre or Jacques, you hated him, and shouted over a bunch of dusty objects-”

“Holy relics!” Louis corrected; it was so easy to rile him up.

“-That you would never enter Bourges if Pierre does. The Pope responded by banning you from taking Communion. But,” Chloe continued with feigned innocence, “that sounds solely like a you problem, does it not brother?”

Eleanor let out a small laugh, before catching her husband’s eyes and covering her mouth. Louis was anxiously thumbing at his rosary, probably praying for deliverance from his hot-tempered sister. His prayers appeared to be answered when an older voice came ringing out from the end of the hall, “Chloe! Why am I hearing about you threatening to break a proposal?”

Chloe scowled at her brother’s retreating figure. She had a chance of wearing down her brother Louis, he was better suited for silent prayer than handling his sister’s temper tantrums, but their mother? Adeliade of Maurienne had helped to rule France for over twenty years, she was a formidable force, and seething with rage as she walked towards her daughter. “My chambers, now.”

Chloe sighed; she should’ve sent Sabrine after that pompous advisor and had him shoved down a flight of stairs. Next time she would not make that mistakes.

***

Despite the dressing down her mother administered, the Princess still attempted a few more times to badger her brother into letting her visit Champagne. The Dowager Queen had any letters she attempted to write to her betrothed about the direness of the situation intercepted. Her mother was taking no chances, Chloe had ended betrothals in the past, though that was the fault of her parents and brother’s ridiculous matchmaking. She was a princess; she should be married to another prince or king. Chloe was not unreasonable, she was amenable to marrying a noble who possessed sizeable influence and land, but she still had standards! They had to be attractive, Chloe would not suffer through childbirth only to give birth to ugly babes. Intelligent, wealthy, fashionable, not too pious, she did not want to live as Eleanor did, having a monk for a husband. And of course: location, location, location. She would not live anywhere too cold, too muggy, if the cuisine was too disgusting, or if the language was too inferior or ugly. At one point her father had considered marrying her to some Hungarian duke or count, Chloe had put an end to that. Between the obnoxious accents and the insufferable amount of paprika, she would’ve thrown herself off the highest tower in her home if she had moved there. It was not her fault the diplomat, a grown man of five-and-thirty, left in tears. His employer should have picked a more fortified man for the job.

Her father had died before finding her a suitable husband. King Louis the Fighter was no match for his daughter’s will. He had made the task harder for himself after arranging the match between his ward, Eleanor to her older brother Louis. Her sister-in-law was the Duchess of Aquitaine in her own right, possessing one-third of France at the time of their marriage. Louis had received the best in Europe for his wife. A wife he was not even supposed to have. Their oldest brother Philip had died six years earlier in an utterly ridiculous and undignified manner, Chloe did not like to think about, making monk Louis the new Dauphin.

If Louis had married the best, then she would marry the best. Her brother had finally succeeded where their father had failed. He had arranged an acceptable betrothal between her and the heir to Toulouse. It was only a county, but the man in line to inherit more than made up for the lack of a crown.

Adrien was the most handsome man in France, likely Europe. Chloe decided he would be her husband when she laid eyes on the portrait of him that Count Gabriel, Adrien’s father, had sent. They had met a few times before, but it had been a few years since the now reclusive Count had ventured to Northern France with his son. The years had been excellent to Adrien. He had flowing blond hair the color of gold and dazzling green eyes. Chloe was determined to get a necklace fitted with emeralds to match them. His green bliaut was moderately fitted over his chest. He was reported to be a knight of excellent skill and strength, Chloe wished his tunic had been tighter. She wanted to see the effect all the years of knight training had had on his glorious physique.

A young, attractive, wealthy knight for a husband? Every lady at court, with their husbands twice their age, that had whispered about her being unmarriable would soon explode into fits of rage. In a few years they would be lining up, fighting to marry their children to the little Adonis’ and Aphrodites’ a union between her and Adrien would surely create. Chloe could hardly wait.

Her beloved had started exchanging letters after their engagement. He was a poet, well-educated, and adored her. Chloe had finally been matched with a man who was her equal on every level. Marrying the perfect man meant having the perfect wedding, which meant getting to buy new perfect clothes at the best fairs, which were in Champagne.

The Queen Mother had not appreciated this sound logic, “I am at a loss for words Chloe!” She snapped! Despite being at a loss for words, she lectured me for half an hour, Chloe had thought to herself.

“Unless your trip to Champagne fixes the damage your brother has done to please his wife, you will not go!” Her mother had finished the lecture, then sent her to her chambers to finish packing. Louis grew a backbone, spurred on by their mother’s support, and continued to refuse her, the times when Chloe could corner him. Louis spent so much time in the chapel, he may as well have his bed moved there.

“Chloe!” Louis snapped a day before she was set to leave, the monk had finally reached his breaking point with his obstinate sister. “I am your King, you do not order me around! You will travel to straight to Toulouse and marry Adrien with a smile on your face. You will not whine. You will not throw a tantrum. And you will. Not. Go. To. Champagne! THAT! IS! FINAL! Do you understand?”

Chloe pursued her lips, finally acquiescing, “Yes Louis…”

“…For the last time Ser Bruel, the King has ordered for me to go to Champagne to outfit my wardrobe for my wedding. We detour to Champagne then bring me to Toulouse, do you understand?”

“His Majesty ordered you were to be brought straight to Toulouse Your Highness.” The leader of her escort replied firmly, he was riding along Chloe’s carriage on a chestnut mare in full armor. Chloe had waited till her entourage had left Paris before informing him of the new travel itinerary.

Her lady’s maid Sabine leaned forward, bristling with fake indignity, “Ser Bruel! He only said that because of the tumultuous situation in Champagne! Count Theobald is still angry about the King allowing his sister Eleanor to be repudiated. We have to maintain a low-profile because of the bad blood between the two of them. It twas a ruse Ser Bruel!”

Chloe watched the furry caterpillars Ser Bruel called eyebrows draw so close together they almost touched. His mind has probably never had to work so hard, she thought with disdain. “Her Majesty does not have a brother.” He finally said.

Both Sabine and Chloe groaned, they planned for Ser Bruel’s dimwittedness to help aid them in their subterfuge, not stall it. “Not Eleanor of Aquitaine! Eleanor of Champagne you twit! Does Sabine need to draw you a family tree?” She snapped angrily, earning a sharp look from her guard. As though he didn’t deserve it!

“The King is ending his marriage with the Queen to marry Eleanor of Champagne? But she’s married to the Count of Vermandois.” Chloe thumped her head against the wall of her carriage, the names of the nobility were wasting storage space in the man’s mind.

Sabine procured her portable writing table and started sketching a visual aid for the knight. “Ser Bruel it’s simple. The King is married to Eleanor of Aquitaine, recently he allowed Her Majesty’s sister, Petronilla, to marry his cousin Count Raoul of Vermandois.”

“Count Vermandois already has a wife.” Ser Bruel interjected while Chloe tried not to scream.

Sabine nodded patiently, “King Louis allowed Count Vermandois to put aside his first wife, Eleanor, who is the sister of Count Theobald of Champagne.” Ser Bruel nodded, though Chloe was not confident the oaf truly understood. Sabine continued, “Now His Majesty is fighting with the Pope and Count Theobald, he gave permission to her Highness Chloe to attend the fairs in Champagne, but discreetly, no one should know we were there.”

“I’m sorry milady, I can only follow direct orders from the King.”

Sabine shoved a folded piece of parchment out the carriage window towards Ser Bruel. “Will a written note suffice?” She asked curtly, Chloe had trained her well.

The knight inspected the royal wax seal, read the letter, slowly, eventually folding it, and handing it back to Sabine. “Very well,” he said, “we are headed for Champagne. Princess?”

“Yes?” Chloe replied sweetly.

“This will be a quick detour.” He stated firmly.

“Obviously Ser Bruel.” Chloe closed the curtains to her carriage window, tired of dealing with slow-witted knights. She gave a conspiratorial smile to Sabine. The lady’s maid had been lacking when she first joined Chloe’s court but had quickly risen to the high standards the Princess had laid out. A devoted, hard-working servant, who was exceptionally talented at penmanship…

Chloe opened the locket which contained a miniature portrait of her beloved Adrien, gazing lovingly at her future husband. In only a few weeks Adrienkins, you will be mine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This prompt was suggested over a year ago and I've been super busy and felt bad about taking so long to get to it. Now I'm finally working on it! But listen, look at me, I'm in school, I've got a test about gas exchange in two weeks. I may not be able to update consistently, but come hell or high water this fic will be finished. Have patience dear readers. xoxo ~~~~ I didn't want to do any world building so I decided to choose a time period based on a historical figure and set the story there so I could research any world building. Two documentaries later and I'm trying to pigeon-hole every reference to Eleanor of Aquitaine possible. I can't tell you how fun it is trying to weave real world historical events into this story. ~~~~ Historical Reference: - Louis was not the oldest son and so was trained for a church career, as a result he was incredibly devout. - Eleanor really owned Aquitaine in her own right after her father died - Yes the Catholic Church used to have restrictions on what days it was okay to have sex! - "at war" might be inaccurate but Louis did fight with the Pope - Yes Louis really did allow a Count to divorce his wife to marry Eleanor's little sister. Eleanor encouraged this and it did not go over well! @Petronilla, go girlboss! - the county of Champagne had fairs where goods were sold that made it a commericial hub in europe! - Adrien is not the count of toulouse, but Louis' real life sister did marry the count of toulouse!

#miraculous lb #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #ao3 #ao3 writer #chloe bourgeois x kagami #chloe bourgeois #kagami tsurugi #historical au #historical fiction #eleanor of aquitaine #12th century france #lesbian romance #enemies to lovers #knight in shining armor #mine #Miraculous Lady Knight #writers on tumblr #adrien agreste

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paranormalrealism · 2 years

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MY FULL REVIEW

WHERE DARKNESS MEETS LIGHT

By Sabrine Elouali

Writing is about taking a thought the author wants to convey to the reader. While that may seem a simple task, it is difficult in the least. The author not only has to succinctly capture their own idea, but then also present it in a way that isn’t a garbled message in the mind of a reader. With poetry, the author has less time to transfer that image. Usually they don’t have pages, they have lines.

I read a lot of poetry on a variety of topics. When I came up the book Where Darkness Meets Light, by Sabrine Elouali, I was interested in reading the poems dealing with mental illness. While it is not a condition I struggle with, I know many who do.

When Darkness Meets Light is a short book of 77 pages. It is a fast read, but one you will want to spend quality time with. I read it and reread it several times so that I could try to understand the depth of emotions, both dark and light.

If mental illness resonates within you, then you need to buy this book and give it a good read. You won’t be disappointed.

Some poems really spoke to me, others not so much. That takes nothing away from the author, who has done an excellent job of crafting emotions.

I believe you will love this book and keep it close so you can use it as you need. I gave the book a 5-Star rating and I recommended it to several family members.

AUTHOR’S WRITE UP

A poetry collection depicting the trials and tribulations of living with mental illness and the journey of one girl's struggles to try and overcome them. From the difficult beginnings of life that contributed to her illnesses, to the present day where she still faces her demons day in day out. Full of harsh truths, comforting truths, and humbling truths. A book that will have you reflecting on your own life, where you can make changes, improvements and start to really challenge your regular ways of thinking. Featuring descriptions of hope as well as woeful testimonies, each poem illustrates the thoughts and emotions this young woman has gone through and continues to go through. Having written this book to inspire, and open the eyes of all who come across it, as well as hopes of breaking the stigmas around mental health and mental illness.

#book review #mental health #mental ilness #poetry

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kvrokasaa · 3 months

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PT 2: More New People

Ever since that small run-in with Tabito, you've been seeing him everywhere. From the lobby (which shouldn't be too surprising) to the nearby market. Your friends keep saying that he's following you, but you don't believe that. You're not the type of person who thinks so highly of themself. A cute boy following you? Yeah right. He probably just has the same routine as you.

You sigh and get out of bed, time to get another cup of coffee and head down to the train station. It's been almost 2 whole weeks since moving into your new apartment, and almost every day, you've been seeing your friends. Olivia leaves for Spain in a week, so you've been trying to get in some last good memories before she goes. However, Olivia thinks it's fun to go to the club every day. You gave your excuses the first three times, but now you have no choice.

So, today is packed full of working (which is just writing) and then going to the club. When Olivia proposed the club idea for the fourth time, you decided to look into it; and of course, she chose the club that has the high risk of being drugged. Judging from the look of it alone, at least. But you still decide to go, your friend is leaving and you don't know when you'll see her again.

After a full day of writing, for what you hope is the next best seller, you decide it's time to get ready. You do your routine, shower, put on some makeup, and waste thirty minutes trying to find something to wear. You opt for a cute dress, it's casual but also a little skin-tight.

Your phone chimes and you walk over to it. A text from Hana.

'We're outside, don't take too long. Olivia is gonna blow a fuse if she doesn't get to the club soon.'

You laugh at the text, sounds like something Olivia would do. After scoping through your purse, making sure you have everything, you head to the front door. The keys jingle in your hands from the movement of closing and locking your door.

You sigh and turn around.

"Oh hey, funny running into you." The voice catches you off guard, it wasn't Karasu's voice. You turn to face the unknown person and see a man about as tall as Karasu, he has blonde and green hair. He has a bored look on his face, but his eyes show all his emotions. "You must be the new neighbor," he reaches out and grabs your hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back. "It's nice to finally meet you, the name's Otoya." You blush at the thought of Karasu talking about you. Does he think about you too?

Otoya's smirk widens when he sees your blush, of course, he thinks it's because of him. "It's common etiquette to tell someone your name," he finishes with a small chuckle. You take your hand from him, smoothing it over your dress. "Y/n, that's all you need to know." You can tell that Otoya means trouble.

Before he can respond, you take your leave. After getting into the elevator, the biggest sigh leaves your mouth. It was so stuffy there, you hope he won't still be there when you get home. The elevator doors open after two minutes; low and behold, Karasu is standing there, texting on his phone. Once he hears the doors open, he looks up and shuts off his phone. His cologne fills the tiny space in seconds. Your mouth quirks up to a tiny, shy smile. "Hey," you slightly wave. He smiles as he moves out of the way, letting you step out of the elevator.

"How're you doing?" He asks. His eyes wander down to your dress and they widen. "You look nice," Karasu clears his throat, "You going somewhere?" A small blush makes its way to your cheeks. "Yeah, I'm going to the club."

You could've sworn you saw his eyes darken. It's probably just your mind playing games with you. "I-I should go, it was nice to see you, Karasu."

You make your way past him. Your perfume filled his nose and a small, quiet groan left his throat.

"Damn, took you long enough," Sabrine crossed her arms over her chest. Her face gave away all her emotions. Sabrine's never been the one to wait; when she wants something, she's going to get it. You sigh as you get into the car, "Yeah, sorry about that. Got held up." Olivia laughed as she put her arm over your shoulder, "Yeah probably by the 'pretty boy' right?" She teased.

You didn't answer, but no answer is an answer. "Let's just go," you huffed out.

After an hour of blasting music and a little speeding, you all get to the club. The booming music was almost too much, and you haven't gone inside yet. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before you took the final step into the building.

The lights flickered with colors, blue, red, green, and multiple others. There were some people who were mingling next to the bar, and others dancing. Hana took your hand and led you to the bar, her grip tightening a little bit.

You both ordered what you wanted and the drinks came out rather quick. You didn't really feel like dancing, so you stayed near the bar, chatting with Hana about your lives. "Ooh, cute guy is coming over here," Hana winked and walked away.

"Hana!" You tried to protest, but she left and started to dance with Olivia and Sabrine. You fixed your hair and smoothed your dress down. All of a sudden, you felt out of place, but you took a deep breath and gathered as much courage as you could (AKA chugging down your drink). "Hey, I saw you from other there," the guy points to where he was standing originally. "And I thought you're pretty cute."

You laughed a little, "Confident, aren't you?" He chuckled. He ordered a drink and turned back to you. "Well, to be honest, I'm really nervous. You're like way out of my league." You chuckled and shook your head.

"Oh, my name is Oliver." He clarified. You nodded, "Well it's nice to meet-" "Y/n! Shots, let's get shots!" Olivia interrupted you. She looked over at Oliver and gasped, "Oh? Am I interrupting something?" Oliver chuckled and shook his head, "Nah, you're all good, jus' talking." Olivia hummed and handed you a shot of tequila, "Take it, for me? Please?" She dragged out and gave you puppy eyes.

You smiled and took the shot at the same time as her. You closed your eyes and hissed, "Shit, it's always so spicy." Oliver laughed, "Need a lemon?" You playfully rolled your eyes.

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