#who i am is where i stand. where i stand is where i fall. what would you die for?
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𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚 | 𝙟𝙪𝙙𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙖𝙢
𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: you haven’t been feeling good. but what happens when jude connects the dots?
𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: dad!jude x fem!reader
𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: signs of vomit/ throwing up
You and Jude start your day early, around 6:30 AM. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a gentle glow through the curtains of your cozy home in Madrid. You nudge Jude gently, the both of you smiling as you hear the soft murmurs of your two-year-old son, Caleb, waking up in the next room.
You slip out of bed, heading to the kitchen to start breakfast and prepare Caleb's lunch for nursery. The kitchen is warm and inviting, filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. You expertly slice fruits, spread peanut butter on bread, and pack a healthy lunch for Caleb. Meanwhile, you hum a cheerful tune, occasionally glancing at the photos of your happy moments on the refrigerator.
Jude, still a bit groggy but smiling, makes his way to Caleb's room. He opens the door to find Caleb standing in his crib, wide-eyed and giggling with excitement. "Good morning, champ!" Jude says, scooping him up into his arms. He changes Caleb's diaper, tickling him slightly to keep the little boy's spirits high.
Once dressed, Jude helps Caleb into his favorite little football-themed outfit, a gift from one of his teammates.
They join you in the kitchen, where you had set out a nutritious breakfast for them.
Caleb babbles happily as you feed him pieces of fruit and yogurt.
Jude pours himself a cup of coffee, sharing a quick kiss with you and exchanging smiles filled with love.
"Good morning, my loves! Did you sleep well, Caleb?" You asked, smiling widely.
"Mornin', Mommy!“ was what Caleb babbled.
"He was so excited to wake up today. I think he knew it was nursery day." Jude told you, softly kissing the back of your hand
"He's been looking forward to seeing his friends. Here, let's get some breakfast in you both." You said as you started feeding Caleb again.
You sit at the kitchen table, Caleb in his high chair, eagerly reaching for his food.
You suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over you. Putting your hand over your mouth lightly, trying to steady your breathing.
“You okay, baby?” Jude asked next to you, putting his hand on your thigh.
“I don’t know if just don’t feel so good right now.” You answered, looking at him.
“Okay, go lay down i’ll get Caleb ready don’t worry. Should I cancel training?” Jude asked you.
“No, no. It’s not an emergency. You go to training. You’ll take Caleb to nursery on your way, please? I’ll go lay down some more. Thank you babe.” You said, kissing Jude and Caleb, standing up and walking up the stairs with your slightly shaking legs.
“Come on, buddy. Let’s get you washed up and going.” Was the last thing you heard from downstairs before falling into a deep slumber under your sheets.
———
Jude turned the key in the lock, gently pushing open the door with Caleb in his arms. The house was shrouded in darkness, and he carefully navigated the familiar path to the living room, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dim light.
"Shh, buddy," he whispered to Caleb, who clung to him sleepily. "Looks like Mommy's still resting."
He set Caleb down, and the little boy toddled off to find his toys. Jude made his way to the bedroom, opening the door slowly to check on you. You were still curled up under the covers, your breathing deep and slow. He could see the pallor in your face even in the low light and felt a pang of concern.
Quietly, he backed out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Back in the living room, Caleb had already begun to scatter his toys across the floor. Jude smiled tiredly at the sight, then headed to the kitchen.
He quickly prepared a simple dinner, heating up some soup he had made the night before. He wanted to keep it light for you, knowing you wouldn't have much of an appetite. Once everything was ready, he brought a tray to the bedroom, nudging the door open with his foot.
"(Y/N), love," he whispered, placing the tray on the nightstand. "I've got some soup for you."
You stirred, your eyes fluttering open. You gave him a weak smile. "Thank you, Jude. You didn't have to."
"Of course I did," he replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing a strand of hair from your face. "How are you feeling?"
"Still not great," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jude's heart ached seeing you like this. "Do you want me to call the doctor?"
"No, I think I just need to rest," you said. "Thank you for taking care of everything."
Jude leaned down and kissed your forehead. "I'll handle it. You just focus on getting better."
You gave a small nod, your eyes already closing again. Jude quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. Back in the living room, he found Caleb busy with his toys, his giggles a comforting background noise.
Jude settled on the couch, keeping one eye on Caleb and another on his phone, ready to call the doctor if your condition didn't improve. He found it weird since you’ve been fine this whole time.
Later, you descended the stairs slowly, your empty soup plate in hand.
You moved carefully, trying not to disrupt the fragile equilibrium you had maintained throughout the day. Your stomach churned uncomfortably as you approached the living room, where Jude and Caleb were playing.
Jude glanced up, his face lighting up with a smile that quickly faded into a look of concern when he saw your pallor.
"Hey, how are you feeling?" Jude asked, rising to meet you, his hand gently touching your arm.
You gave a weak smile. "Still not great. I thought the soup might help, but..."
Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit you, and you instinctively covered your mouth, your eyes wide.
The scent of something — perhaps a lingering whiff from Caleb’s snacks or Jude's cologne — made your stomach rebel.
Jude, noticing your distress, quickly ushered Caleb to his feet.
"Caleb, let's put away the toys for a bit, okay? Mommy needs some quiet time," he said, his voice calm but urgent.
Caleb, sensing the seriousness, nodded and began gathering his toys. Before Jude could turn back to you, you rushed to the nearest bathroom. Jude followed closely, his worry deepening as he heard you retching.
He found you kneeling by the toilet, pale and trembling. "I’m here, (Y/N)," he said softly, rubbing your back in slow, comforting circles. "It’s okay. Just let it out.
You groaned between bouts of vomiting, the smell that had triggered your nausea still lingering in your mind.
Finally, the retching subsided, and you slumped back against Jude, who handed you a glass of water he’d fetched from the sink.
“Thanks,” you whispered, your voice weak. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Probably just a bug,” Jude said, helping you to your feet. “Let’s get you back to bed. You need to rest.”
You nodded gratefully, leaning on Jude as he guided you back upstairs, his concern for you evident in every careful step.
As Jude helped you back upstairs, his mind raced with worry. He laid you gently on the bed, arranging the pillows to make you comfortable. As he did, he noticed you wincing slightly, your face still pale.
"Baby, do you remember what smell made you feel so sick?" Jude asked gently, brushing a strand of hair away from your forehead.
You thought for a moment, your brow furrowing. "It was… I think it was the smell of Caleb's peanut butter sandwich. It just hit me all of a sudden."
Jude's eyes widened slightly as a thought crossed his mind.
He recalled the last time you had been this sensitive to certain smells. It had been when you were pregnant with Caleb. Could it be happening again?
"My Love," he began cautiously, "do you think there’s a chance you might be pregnant?"
You blinked, the question catching you off guard. "I… I don't know. I suppose it's possible. I’ve been feeling off for a few days now."
Jude nodded, his concern mingling with a glimmer of excitement. "Maybe we should get a test, just to be sure."
You managed a small smile, your hand resting on your stomach. "Yeah, I think that’s a good idea."
Jude squeezed your hand reassuringly. "I'll run to the pharmacy and get one. You just rest, okay?"
As you closed her eyes, Jude leaned down and kissed your forehead. He felt a mixture of worry and hope as he headed out the door, ready to find out if your family was about to grow.
Back in the living room, Jude quickly tidied up, clearing away the remnants of Caleb’s snack and any other potential triggers for your nausea. He found Caleb sitting quietly on the couch, sensing the unusual tension.
"Dad, Mommy okay?" Caleb asked, his big eyes filled with concern.
Jude knelt down beside him. "Mommy's not feeling well right now, buddy. I need to go out for a bit to get something that might help her feel better. Can you be a good boy and stay here quietly until I get back?"
Caleb nodded solemnly. "I can do that."
Jude gave him a reassuring hug before grabbing his keys and heading out. The drive to the pharmacy felt longer than usual, his mind racing with possibilities. Once he arrived, he quickly located a pregnancy test and made his way back home, his heart pounding with anticipation.
When he returned, he found you dozing lightly, your breathing steady. He set the test on the nightstand and gently woke you up.
"Baby, I got the test," he whispered, helping you sit up slowly. "Do you feel up to taking it now?
You nodded, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of anxiety and hope.
Jude helped you to the bathroom, steadying you with each step.
After a few moments, you emerged, the test in your hand.
"Now we wait," you said softly, your voice trembling slightly.
Jude wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you sat on the edge of the bed.
"No matter what, we'll face it together," he whispered, kissing the top of your head.
You sat in silence, the seconds ticking by slowly. Finally, you glanced at the test, your eyes widening.
"Jude... it's positive," you breathed.
A flood of emotions washed over Jude as he hugged you tightly, tears of joy and relief mingling with the worry.
"We're going to be parents again," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.
You smiled through your own tears, feeling a renewed sense of hope and strength. "Yes, we are."
You stayed like that for a while, holding each other.
#jude bellingham#jude bellingham fic#jude bellingham one shot#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham blurb#jude bellingham fluff#jude bellingham fanfic#judespoets
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“I’m just saying it’s manipulative.”
“Manipulative? Eddie you can’t be serious.”
“I am, now, where’s the dish? It’s got to be around here somewhere.”
“Maybe in this box, clearly labelled ‘kitchen’?” Dustin snarks, “and I don’t see how you can say behaving in a way that’s been dictated by your very biology is...manipulative. That’s not fair, man.”
Eddie digs in the box, bringing out the baking dish he wants, and then heads back into the kitchen, swerving around clutter and open boxes as he goes, “yeah, I get that a lot of Omega act the way they do because of what they are, alright. I get that, I do. But all this...kind of, 'oh my oh my, can’t the big Alpha come and save me...I just need looking after and...and protecting'. And I get that it works, a lot of Alphas eat that shit right up, I’m just not one of them.” Eddie bangs around in the kitchen fixing Wayne’s famous corned beef hash casserole, “it’s just not for me, you know? I don’t want someone who’s just going to do as they’re told and roll over on everything, I want someone who is equal, not someone who wants looking after all the time. I will not be loosing my head over any Omega, no matter how pretty they are.”
“So you...wouldn’t look after your Omega?” Dustin squints at him.
“Firstly, not happening, not ever, I’m sticking to Beta’s and that is final...but, I mean, yeah, of course I’d look after my partner, but I’d do that for anyone. I don’t want this hormone driven need to...to I don’t know. It’s just not for me Henderson, okay? Now help me with the books.”
Dustin whines, “but there’s like, fifty million of them...and I still don’t agree that it’s manipulative. They’re just...playing to their strengths, or whatever.”
“Right, so an Omega bats their eyelashes and every Alpha in sniffing distance is falling over themselves to do whatever the Omega wants, and that’s not manipulative?”
“Welllll…no, especially since it only works because of the Alphas in the first place, if it’s anyone fault, it’s the Alphas, right?”
“Fucking...just shut up Henderson.”
Eddie’s just put their plates on the table when there’s a knock at the door, “I’m not waiting,” Dustin sits down and starts shoveling, and Eddie mutters curses all the way to the door, he’s absolutely starving-
“Hi, I am so sorry,” it’s an Omega. A ridiculously pretty one. A very, very pregnant one. “I’m from next door,” the very very pretty Omega is on tip toes, trying to look over Eddie’s shoulder. He’s clutching a plate to his chest, “I know you’ve just moved in and, again, I am so so sorry about this, but is there any chance I could try what you’re cooking? Please?”
He smells so good. Even better than a regular Omega; Eddie’s sure it’s because he’s pupped, probably some biological bullshit about protecting pups and whatever. But still, he’s...he’s cute, standing there with his plate, sniffing after Eddie’s cooking.
“I could smell it in the hall. It could just be the tiniest bit, but I just would really like to try it, I’m so sorry for interrupting your dinner but-”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says, taking the guys plate, “just hang there a second.” Eddie goes and...well, if he fills the plate of what was going to be tomorrows dinner, no one needs to know. Eddie might have opinions on gender, but he’s not a dick. The guy is very pregnant, plus he was being super polite about it. He even brought his own plate.
It’s another human being, pregnant and hungry; Eddie would do the same to help anyone out. This is absolutely nothing to do with the guy being the prettiest Omega Eddie’s ever seen in real life.
Eddie delivers the plate back, “oh my goodness,” oh okay, that’s adorable. Eddie’s pretty sure he’s never heard anyone say ‘oh my goodness’ in real life, like, ever. “Thank you so so much, is there anything I can do? I can contribute to the ingredients or-” and that’s when Eddie figures that not only is the guy very pretty, he’s actually a reasonable human being too, lots of people wouldn’t have even thought about that sort of thing.
“No, we’re good just, ah, let me know what you think.”
“I will, I will,” the guy is saying as he turns to leave, carefully carrying his laden plate. He’s big enough that he’s kind of waddling, and Eddie watches him long enough to see him go into the next apartment along the hall.
Eddie shuts the door, turning back to find Dustin watching him, both eyebrows raised, a very accusatory look on his face, “oh shut the fuck up.”
“Just let me know what you think,” Dustin mimics back, like a little bitch.
#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie#pre getting together#pre steddie#dustin henderson#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#ao3 author#ficlet#ao3 writer#mpreg
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University AU Enemies to lovers
Joost Klein x fem!reader
Warnings: swearing, PiV (protected), 18+ only
It's a Friday evening, soft music is playing through the speakers on Max's desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone is sitting in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on Max's bed, you and Olivia rest on Max's roommate’s bed. Red solo cups of beer are scattered amongst the room. It was calm and then the door swung open.
"Yooo!!" The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Max, who hops off his bed and heads towards the entrance.
“Joost!” Max exclaims, arms open wide to embrace his friend. “Where the hell you have been, man?”
"Consider my good time ruined" you mutter.
"Be nice" Olivia pats your knee.
"I am always nice. It's him who always starts shit. That di-"
"Hey, Y/N" Joost greets, taking a seat on the opposite bed. "Hey, Olivia."
"Hey, Joost" Olivia smiles. When you don't say anything, she nudges her elbow into your side.
You roll your eyes. "Hi, Joost"
"C'mon, that's all I get?" he teases. "What's wrong? You tired?"
"You have no idea" you say, finally looking at him. He is wearing a green long sleeve polo shirt and a hat, his blond messy hair sticking out the front it.
"Aw, is it past your bed time?"
"And the day is just starting for you? Let me guess, you just rolled out of bed."
"Oh, God" someone says "Here they go again."
"Max invited me here. I am more fun than someone who sits with a sour face all the time."
"Why are you talking to me? Don't you have anything better to do?"
"You know" Max says. "if you two just - I'm gonna say it - fucked one good time. You would get over this rivalry already."
Your jaw drops, you look at Olivia, who just shrugs.
"Don't ever say that again, Max. Ew" you say disgusted at the thought.
"Ew?" Joost says offended. "You would be lucky if I even considered it."
Your jaw drops even lower. "You arrogant asshole" you sit down straight. "And this is who you all want around?"
"Stop it you two." someone says.
You can't see yourself ever getting along with him. This "rivalry" as your friends call it has started a long time ago. During the first week of introductions, he asked you to speak louder, which completely messed up your track of thought and earned some laughs from the auditory. So, after the first homework tasks, you called his presentation uninspiring and poorly structured. He took the last internship place, which he knew you wanted. So, you assigned to write the final paper with the professor, he was planning to ask. You showed his old embarrassing Youtube videos to a girl he wanted to ask out, which lead to her blocking his number. So, he fucked your roommate, while you were still in the room. He calls you short tack, princess, anything but your name, making fun of the fact that he is taller than you. List of insults you call him is too long.
"I'm gonna head out" you stand up to leave.
"I'll come with you" Olivia left with you.
You take your favorite seat in the auditorium, noise of chatting students around you as you take out your laptop. The professor walks in, prepared to start the lecture. The room falling into gradual silence, then the door opens and Joost walks in. You watch him take his place further up, he notices you looking and flips you off. You mock him and flip him off back.
At the end of the lecture professor announces "As you all know the final paper consists of a group presentation. I took liberty and divided you into pairs. I will also email you the list." he pulls up the list on the projector screen. You search for your name. As soon you see it, the color drains from your face.
No. No, this must be a mistake.
A groan is heard from the back of the auditorium. "Professor, I am not working with her." Joost says annoyance clear in his voice. "Switch me to be with someone else."
You are sat in disbelief that you got assigned to write the final paper with Joost.
"This is a final list." Professor looks at the whole class. "Drop this attitude and act like grownups."
As the lecture ends, you hurry to the professors desk. "Sir, this is not going to work. He is going to sabotage my results. Can I just switch with someone?" you look at him with pleading eyes. "Anyone else."
"I assigned pairs randomly, so everyone has equal chances. You have to learn to work with everyone." he says. "This is final."
Joost rushes past us towards the exit. You roll your eyes. This can't be happening.
You meet with Olivia and tell her everything. She laughs in shock at first, but then insists you'll be fine, that you are adults and both want this done one way or another. You knew it’d be a miracle if Joost and you made it through 15 minutes of working on something together.
You and Joost still haven't talked about it, as if pushing it to the last minute would solve the problem. It is halloween night, you are getting ready for the party, your costume is inspired by Britney Spears in her music video Baby one more time. You finish braiding your hair into two braids, fix your skirt, wait for Olivia and you head out to the party.
Loud music, neon lights, you already had a couple of drinks, feeling a nice buzz. Someone from the group of your friends suggests to play Spin the bottle.
"Hell yeah, let's do it." Max puts his hand around you. "C'mon grumps, you joining us?"
You push his hand away. "I am" you make kissing face at him. "Always dreamt of kissing you" your voice full of sarcasm. You and Max burst out laughing.
Your usual group of friends and a few people you met at the party find space in the house to set up the game, music still loud around you. Olivia brings the bottle, as you are all sitting in a circle, ready to start.
"Is there still space for me?" a voice behind you asks. You turn around to see Joost, his face painted to resemble a skull, he is wearing a black suit, which doesn't properly fit him and a red tie.
"Sure, man! We've been looking for you." Max makes room for Joost to sit next to him, opposite of you.
"I was a little busy with this girl I met." he says as he sits down. "Glad I found you guys just in time." his eyes find yours and he smirks.
"We are so lucky" you say contemplating if you should just leave. Olivia looks at you shaking her head as if trying to tell you "don't start it again", you roll your eyes.
For the past 15 minutes there was a lot of cheering as people kiss. Some give just a little peck, others fully commit, tongue and all. Max is currently making out with a girl from an acting class. Her hands are in his hair as they deepen the kiss.
"Okay okay. I am afraid you will start fucking soon." someone says. "I am not drunk enough to see that."
Everyone laughs and they pull apart, going back to their places.
It is your turn to spin the bottle, you down your drink and reach for the bottle. You give it a good spin, watching it, already knowing you will just give a little peck to whoever it lands on. The bottle slows and comes to a stop. You follow the neck of the bottle, it points to Joost. Everyone erupts into loud cheering and whistling.
"Finally!" someone says.
You look at Joost. Universe must be punishing you for something.
"Bring it on, princess." he messes up his hair. "Hope it's not gonna be your first kiss." he licks his lips.
"Pass." you say with a smile and cross your arms against your chess.
"No, that's not how this works" Max chimes in. "No skipping your turn."
You groan and look at the ceiling hoping you can just die on the spot.
Joost stands up and offers you his hand. "We will go somewhere private. Won't give you all a show. It is her first time, has to be special."
"Oh, shut up" you say. "Let's just move on, everyone"
"Just trust me." he kneels down next to you. "Can you do that for once?" he says looking into your eyes.
You stand up without his help and head towards the first room you see, you can hear his footsteps behind you.
You walk in and close the door behind you as he walks towards the window.
"I am not kissing you." you say.
"I wasn't planning on that" he replies and opens the window, he takes out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, puts one in between his lips and reaches for a lighter.
"You should quit that." you point at the cigarette in between his fingers.
He chuckles and takes a drag of a cigarette as we stand in silence.
"About that presentation.. " you start.
"I emailed the head of the department asking to let us switch partners." he looks down at his shoes. "He said no"
You look at him with your eyes wide.
"You would hate to work with me that much?" you ask shocked he went that far.
"I was doing it for the both of us. You know it would be a disaster. But since we are stuck together, promise me you won't fuck this up for us." he lifts his head up to look at me.
All of your anger returns. You can't believe you were about to offer him to put your differences behind you.
"Fuck you, Joost. Why do you think I would be the one to fuck this up? You are the unreliable one. Always gone somewhere doing fuckall with whoever." your hands ball into fists. "Fuck you" you say again and storm out of the room.
You leave the party without saying bye to anyone, you just need to go back to your room to calm down.
The street you walk back to the dorm is silent, lit up only by sporadic streetlights. It's late enough that everyone is already asleep or partying. Your head clears from the alcohol. You are deep in your thoughts, and suddenly you hear fast approaching footsteps behind you. You don't have enough time to realise what is happening, you feel a heavy hand on your shoulder. A flight or fight response kicks in and you scream, turn around and throw a punch, not risking waisting time to think about it.
Your fist connects with something.
"Ouch. You fucking bitch" you open your eyes to see Joost holding his cheek. It's not until you smell a familiar scent, cigarettes with cologne, your panic subsides a little. You think of how stupid your argument over the presentation was. The fear of being robbed or worse, has made you realise that Joost is not the enemy and never has been. Your hands start to shake and you burst into tears.
And then you hug him, your arms tight around his middle, he tenses but then wraps an arm around you, feeling you tremble.
"Hey, hey" his voice getting soft. "What's wrong with you" his other hand is still holding his cheek.
"I thought you were a murderer." you let go of him, still shaking.
"I called your name, you didn't hear?"
"No" you say "What are you doing here anyway?"
"No one knew where you disappeared to. I went looking for you." he says letting go of his cheek. The paint of a skull on his face has rubbed off from sweat throughout the night and you can see hints of red from where you hit. You start to feel sorry and embarrassed that you reacted that way. You reach out to him, but drop your hand before it reaches to touch his cheek.
"Let's not tell anyone about this." he suggests. "We can't give them the satisfaction of knowing you hit me"
It draws a laugh out of you and it makes him grin.
"It's the least I can do. I really am sorry, Joost."
"You are nuts for reacting like this...but I really didn't mean to scare you." he says. "Let me walk you home."
You walk together in silence.
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier at the party." he says suddenly. "I realise I was kind of an asshole"
"Kind of?"
"Ok, yeah, I overreacted. I guess what i'm trying to say is.. Let's just do that presentation and not kill each other. I already felt your knuckles on my face, don't want that again"
You look at him, seeing the red mark again. "My room. 7pm tomorrow. Let's at least start it"
Olivia left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into comfortable pants and a cropped sweater. You sit at your desk, and wait. You’d told Joost to come at 7.
There is a knock at 7:14.
"Come in" you say slight annoyance in your voice.
"I'm sorry, short stack"
"I was starting to think you weren't gonna come" you turn in your chair to face him.
"I'm here now" he says taking a seat next to you, smell of cigarettes filling the space.
"I started writing a rough plan." you show him what you wrote on your laptop.
After 30 minutes of you two working out an agenda for the presentation, Joost leans back on his chair. "Wow"
It makes you look at him. "What?"
"Look at us. Not arguing"
"It's only been like half an hour" you look at your watch. "The night is young"
Maybe he has brain damage from the punch, but he can’t lie to himself, that night after the party shifted things. Seeing you so terrified caused a change in him. Feeling your arms around him, clinging to him and trembling so hard, softened him towards you.
He catches himself thinking you look so good all wrapped up in your shared work. He hooks his foot around the leg of your chair and pushes you closer to him.
"What are you doing?" you push yourself back.
"Why are you so far away from me?"
"I am not. I am an appropriate distance from you." you look at him as if he is crazy.
He pushes you closer again and leans in. He acts on an instinct, closes the distance between you and crashes his lips against yours. You press your hands against his chest and push away.
"What the hell was that?" you ask touching your lips.
He is just as speechless as you are. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so pretty. Has he always been that pretty?
You grab onto the hem of his shirt and pull him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Joost's hands grip your waist and he urges you to straddle him. Without breaking the kiss you put your legs on each side of his and sit on top of his thighs. He grips your hair and deepens the kiss, earning a moan from you, which makes him push up into your clothed core. You feel him hardening.
Joosts hands slide down to your thighs, he scoops you up in his arms, standing up and lifting you up with him. Your legs are wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supports your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth. He carries you over to the bed, dropping you on top of the mattress. He looks down at you with a grin.
"These fuckers were right." he laughs. "We needed this" he leans back to you, his hands sneaking beneath your sweater, pushing it up until your bra is revealed. He looks into your eyes. "Is this okay?"
"Yes" you moan, "Please".
His pushes your bra down, enough to reveal your chest. His lips wrap around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you grip onto his hair. He can't stop himself from smiling. He sucks harder, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise.
You rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Joost noticed this and proceeded to stick his hand down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirks at how soaked you were already and rubs your clit as he licks a trail up to your neck. You tighten your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets. His cock is pressed against the zipper of his jeans, getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your clit, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs.
"Do you want to do this?" he looks at you.
"Yes." you reply with no hesitation. "Condoms are in the drawer."
He gets off the bed, finds the pack of condoms, tears the foil with his teeth, and watches you as he rolls the condom on himself. You’re absolutely gorgeous, better than he could have ever imagined.
"How do you want me, princess?” The nickname finally getting a new meaning.
"However you want it.”
"We are doing acrobatics then"
It startles a laugh out of you, and Joost thinks he might love that—the way he makes you laugh.
He takes off your pants together with the underwear, bends your leg, pushes it away from him, closer to you, which reveals your slick core to him.
“Gotta tell me how you want me, and fucking quick.” he groans, just the view of you makes him do mathematics in his head to stop from cumming on the spot.
"Missionary works me." you prop yourself on your elbows.
So he climbs onto you. He kneels between your legs, then pushes them apart obscenely wide. You stay propped up on your elbows, watching him, but when he settles between your thighs, you fall back against your pillow.
“Good?” he asks.
"You haven’t done much,” you point out.
"Smart-ass.” He reaches down and grasps his cock at the base, and drags the tip through your folds. He coats himself in your arousal, feels the heat of your pussy even through the latex, then notches himself at your entrance. He looks down and pushes into you. He goes slow but steady, and he hears a small gasp fall from your lips.
He remembers the way you clung to him that night, and he wants to capture that feeling again.
He picks up a steady pace, holding your legs apart, kissing your neck. One of his hands makes its way to your clit again, you arch your back as he starts to draw circles around it.
He feels you clench around him. "Joost. I'm so close" you moan and he watches you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he hides his face in your neck, and releases himself into the condom.
You want to remember this forever. Him panting, moaning in your ear. He taps the side of your thigh, pulls out and throws out the condom. You watch him pull up his jeans and sit down at the desk again.
"Let's do this thing"
You and Joost are sitting next to each other in the cafeteria. Max and Olivia join you.
"Look, both are still alive!" Max jokes.
"How did it go yesterday?" Olivia asks looking between the two of you.
A deep blush spreads across your cheeks.
"Wait." Max looks at you, then at Joost. "Did you two...?"
"No way!" Olivia gasps.
"Ok, shut up guys." Joost says
"You owe me 20 bucks" Max says to Olivia.
"Fuck!" Olivia exclaims
"You bet on us?"
"Last year!" Max takes the money from Olivia.
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I have a hot take on Eloise and would love others thoughts!
Especially in season 3 and rewatching the entire series over the past few weeks I truly have come to not enjoy Eloise and she truly was someone I adored on my first watch as she thought outside the box for a early time period. Here are my reasons why I don't care for her.
- first off she never really listened to Pen until she realized she was Lady Whistledown. It took her actually hearing what pen was saying for her to realize who she truly was. IMO friends listen. There's a part in s2 episode early on, where pen makes a plant pun while Eloise is trying to make her run from possible suitors trying to dance with her and fetch her lemonade. Eloise totally ignores this and it's as if pen knows she's being ignored and then writes a plant pun on the next release in whistledown.
Now I'm not saying every friend is 100% invested into what the other is saying but this is an example of Eloise not listening to Pen.
-Second, everyone around Eloise even Colin is like am I seeding what I'm seeing? Is Eloise friends with Cressida? After the fall out of Eloise and pen I understand that she wasn't going to be talking to pen but did she have to go out of her way and go be friends with her ex friends bully? In my opinion this is not a girls girl thing to do and Eloise screams feminism.
-s1 Eloise was always saying men have it better off than woman. Which I still believe stands in this day and age, but that is nearly my opinion. However, I do think compared to not even just pen but also Cressida Eloise had the luxury of always having a supportive family and just a relatively easy life. (Yes I know she lost her father that is never easy. Which is something I can relate to) however, the support and wealth she has been able to have the opportunity to be a free thinker which in her time period was not something woman had the opportunity to do.
Also I'd like to say I'm not an Eloise hater and can't wait to see what they do with her. If they follow the books. I just love to open discussion because I have an unhealthy relationship with Bridgerton lol 😂 thanks for coming to my Ted talk. 💜
#bridgerton season 3#bridgerton spoilers#penelope featherington#eloise bridgerton#bridgerton#collin bridgerton
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Hey. This might be very stupid, but i hope you answer this.
Today I accidently got sucked into your blog, which is ironic since I'm a huge swiftie. (but I'm not here to hate on you, I swear)
The thing is for months I've been doubting where I stand on that. Like if i should call myself a swifte or not. when I was young, I used to worship the ground she walked on. but in the past year, I've slowly realised I've been very sheltered. like the problems people point out about her sometimes are actual real problems, but my brain just doesn't know how to respond to that as it has been taught taylor swift is a goddess and can do no wrong. Since your posts are tagged with #exswiftie, i figure you'd understand.
I am not from america, so I can understand then politics part of it all only to a certian extend. the other things, I just dont know what to say to that. The most i can reply is..."yes that is a bit of a problem". I feel don't feel like a swiftie at that moment.
I had fed my mind this narrative that people who hate taylor swift passionately are like untrustworthy or just a walking red flag, or just "don't get it". Now after reading your actual breakdowns I understand you have a rather educated opinion and perception of things. Which clearly rules out my narrative.
I don't know what I feel like I have to define where I stand on this, I just do. I know I genuinely enjoy her music a lot, even there are songs I don't want to hear more than once. I love the whole swiftie lore, digging deep on each lyrics finding out what they mean, finding clues easter eggs just losing my mind over surprise songs. Then i see this other side, which can't be defined with anything less than deeply toxic, which makes me question whether or not this thing i love so much is genuinely good or not.
Hello dear, apologies for the delay in reply :) I am happy to chat with you. I hope that you did not think I would ignore you.
I was also a Swiftie for nearly 15 years. I got her debut record as a Christmas present in 2006 or 2007. Though I cannot remember which year it was, I loved her from the start. At 10 years old, I was immediately interested. My mother approved of me owning her music simply because she was inoffensive. She didn’t curse or talk about sex, in the beginning, so she was deemed appropriated for my childhood self. She and I have since grown up. She is now a terribly pretentious bully- and, well, I grew up much too poor and much too hungry to turn into a bully like her.
The problem- and something I think you’re very much aware of- is that Swift has built herself up in her fandom as perfect. She encourages fans to defend her every action- and rewards them for their efforts through “Swiftmas” or “Secret Sessions” or “hidden easter eggs that only the smartest- most dedicated fans will figure out.” It’s all methodically calculated to keep up an air of reciprocity between Swift, as the fearless leader, and her band of merry misfits- the fans.
You are not dumb for falling into her rhetorical situation - she's set the marketing strategy up on purpose. It’s specifically created to attract attention- and, to make people feel good, or productive, by participating in her marketing strategy. She gives people an image of herself as a poor innocent victim of the media, or of any critique, and then rewards people for defending her. In Literary study, we call this “Pathos” as the rhetorical appeal to emotion through messaging- textual work of some kind. Rhetoric like this can be found in all sorts of media- commercials about starving children or beaten dogs, charity event banners aiming to persuade someone to donate. It’s all predicated on the appeal to our common emotion, or human capacity to empathize with each other. For, every time fans are rewarded by her attention- after defending her from a perceived enemy, or figuring out some hidden clue- they feel closer to the idol, they feel happy to have her attention. They get that emotional impact of believing they are helping Taylor Swift, or understanding her better on some more human, connected, level. It’s a game of risk and reward for her. Never mind that none of this altruistic- she gets paid through our attention on her- and if you are not directly lining her pockets with your cash money, she does not actually care about you. It’s the image of caring she projects that matters much more than the fact that she doesn’t actually care.
I’m sure you can think of many more examples wherein Swift has played this game of attention and reward with fans. It’s everywhere- her easter eggs are a great example. Sometimes her use of Pathos is benign- non malicious, therefore a non-issue. However, she often weaponizes this rhetoric in a way that is harmful.
This interplay she sets up, between herself and her fans, is made more intensive through her pathos- heavy approach to Rhetoric. To further illustrate, one of the ways people often explain Pathos is by saying that it represents our, as human beings, judgement affect. We see, or hear, the narrative Swift espouses and make judgements about it. If she says: The music critics are sexist towards me. We say: 1.) Sexism is morally wrong, 2.) Taylor Swift is facing sexism from Music critics, Therefore.) The music critics are sexist and morally wrong, because they are criticizing Taylor Swift.
So, all the critics are bad- and we don't need to listen to them. It's also a way Swift creates permissive attitudes towards attacking anyone who critique's her- because she can so easily label them all as sexist.
She uses this basic syllogism to justify leveraging her fans against all kinds of people- it's not just the critics. I just wanted to give a concrete example, and I will go more in depth on this subject in another post.
She is playing with people’s emotions, while she is also self-victimizing,and leveraging her audience’s innate human rejection of, for instance, sexism as it offends our personal values. No one is saying that sexism isn't morally corrupt; however, Taylor Swift points to valid criticism and calls it sexism so that her audience will attack. People often have valid critique of Swift- She just doesn't want to face critique at all- ever. If people say her music is too self-centered- Swift says that is Sexism. If people say her music is boring- she calls it sexism. If people say her music is shallow and only centered are relationships- She calls it sexism. When, in reality, it's valid criticism that has nothing to do with her being a woman. Only ever writing songs about your own myopic, self-centered perception of interpersonal relationships is shallow. Her music is objectively boring, because it's derivative. Her music is completely self-centered- and she only admits to that when it benefits her, but when critics say it, she calls it sexism.
Please don’t think badly of yourself. I am not here to hate on you either- I was you. I am not here to hate on anyone at all- I just want to share how my own knowledge, and expertise, of rhetorical appeals and literary analysis can expose Taylor Swift. Swift relies on this rhetorical technique to thrive, she obfuscates the truth, schemes, and manipulates people into thinking her music is the best thing on Earth- or thinking that she is literally a Saint. Clearly- nothing on Earth is that perfect- So why does she need her fan base to consider her a genius, and a saint, so badly?
Personally, I have no problem admitting I have flaws. I think most sane people can admit to their flaws. It’s not a bad thing to have flaws. So why does Taylor Swift react to all criticism like it’s the worst thing on Earth. Why does she have a whole song about calling critics “mean/ and a liar/ and pathetic/ and alone in life” (“Mean” 2010). She has the nerve to call that song an “anti-bullying” song; yet, is it so clearly bullying that random critic who wrote a bad review about her concert one time in 2009? She really hated that guy- and all he was doing was his job. She called him a drunken loser for just doing his job.
She's written so many songs about how all her critics are just stupid, morally corrupt, or sexist: "The Man" (2019), "Mean" (2010), "But Daddy I love Him" (2024), "New Romantics" (2014), "Shake it Off" (2014), "I know Places" (2014), "Anti-Hero" (2023), "Paris" (2023), "Blank Space" (2014), "I did something Bad" (2018), "Dancing with our hands tied" (2018). There are more songs wherein she carries this theme of "everyone is out to get me, and they all hate me for no good reason" but I think I've listed enough.
The general message is all over "Evermore" and "Folklore" too every time she calls the general public "Clowns" or "masqueraders"
It's just everywhere- her subtle devaluation of legitimate criticism. Trying to chalk it all up to the critics being simply dumb, sexist, or malicious in some way. Perhaps some people are mean- true- but to generalize every criticism as evil? That's just her actually playing a victim card. There's no way every single critic, or person who doesn't like her, is evil, bad, or malicious in some way. Okay?
I’m tired of her claiming to be an amazing person and an amazing poet- when she is just not either of those things. She’s not a kind person- it's all over her music in the ways she maliciously hurts people for fun. She’s not an amazing poet either. I have a few college degrees- and one pass through her work, with a serious intention of literary analysis, I discover that her writing is plain, banal, and derivative.
She wants everyone to compare her to Emily Dickinson, Dylan Thomas, and Shakespeare. So, I’m doing what she wants and taking her work seriously enough to critique it. Except that, in critique, I find out why it’s all poorly written- and why it’s just a bunch of thinly veiled conservative iterations of the same boring message over and over. All she ever says in her music is “poor me” and “I hate” (insert person- Kim K., Kanye, Matty, Joe, Jake, John, Scooter, Scott, Harry, Calvin, the media at large, anyone who critiques her, and men in the music industry as a whole). She has the longest list of enemies I think I’ve ever seen- and the funny thing is that all these people avoid her at all costs. None of these people talk about her- yet she is still singing, writing songs, and getting her fans to post memes about how awful they are years, even decades, later.
It all gets a bit tiresome? No? Personally, I don’t wish to live a life full of such self-pity and hatred- so why should I listen to it in music form? Ya know?
In my posts, I am attempting to find the truth. I don’t want to “hate” on anyone or anything- but I am going to seek truth in her work.
I will be posting more about how she devoids Shakespeare of his social reformist efforts. I’m going to post more about how she twists the meaning of every literary reference she’s ever made. I am not kidding, she has misrepresented, and misinterpreted every single literary reference in her entire discography. It’s astounding how hard Swift tries to sound thoughtful- without actually being thoughtful. I will be posting about how she only ever name-drops to either tear other people down or self-depreciate herself in effort to seek pity. I will be talking more about her use of rhetorical appeals to both attract an audience, keep their attention through risk-reward trade-off, and manipulate them into fighting her battles for her. I will be talking about how she upholds a bunch of harmful stereotypes in her music. She often alludes, or blatantly includes allusion to colonialist attitudes. She’s used the LGBT community for profit without making any real activist efforts. She’s leveraged feminism like a weapon against other women- yet never actually has feminist themes in her music. She’s just so painfully hollow- upon closer inspection.
I don’t hate her as a person. I think she’s unethical, sure, but that doesn’t mean I hate her, want her to die, or anything extreme at all. I would never wish harm to another human being. In fact, after seeing a lot of the harmful stuff in her music, especially about her kind of fucked up views on relationships, I sincerely hope she gets some professional help and finds some peace in this world. When I critique Taylor Swift it’s about her work and her brand- It's not about her personhood.
I just think that no one Earth is above reproach, or critique, and we must all be held accountable for our own actions. She’s the one that puts her work out there for people- It's therefore completely appropriate for me to discuss her work.
Edit: Oh and I want to add- I wish you luck in figuring out what you really think about Taylor Swift. If you ever need to talk or vent more- my inbox is always open. :) With peace and love- bye bye
#anti taylor swift#taylor swift criticism#anti swifties#ex swiftie#taylor swift#taylor swift critical#literary theory#literary criticism#pathos#rhetorical appeal#rhetoric#rhetorical situation
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Scarred Survivors | Part 1 | Finnick Odair x reader
Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader
Wordcount: 1k
Summary: The Capitol announces a twist in the Quarter Quell: victors will be reaped, again. Y/N Green, the "Huntress" and winner of the 69th Hunger Games, is forced back into the arena. Furious and betrayed, she faces Finnick Odair, who volunteers to participate in the games once again, reigniting old tensions.
AN: Hi guys, it's been a while. My life has been turned upside down after the death of my mom. I am trying to make the best of it and find distraction by starting to write again. It was hard to start again, I am trying my best to fall in love with writing again. Be kind. Love always, Lexi
It was two hours before the reaping when the capitol announced an emergency broadcast. You were sitting in front of the TV when they announced a change in the Quarter Quell: the two tributes were going to be selected from the existing victors group. ‘No!’ you threw your glass at the television as the realization set in. They screwed you over. Again. After you won your games you were promised a lifetime full of peace and prosperity. You didn't invest too much thought into it and simply allowed events to unfold. Trying to forget the trauma from the arena and the blood on your hands. During your games, Caesar Flickerman named you ‘The Huntress’. Instead of waiting the others out you actively hunted them down from day one, you were all going to die one way or another so you could at least try to survive. To your disbelief, you did. You became the winner of the 69 Hunger Games, being seventeen years old at the time.
Life after the games was never the same. There was a y/n before the games and a y/n after the games. The first weeks back home were a blur, between panic attacks and depressive episodes you drank your problems away. A little trick Haymitch taught you when you met him during your victor’s tour. When you settled in Victor’s village it was strange at first but you found your place among the others. Mags guided you as much as she could, just like she did in the games. It was nice being around people who understood what you had been through, and what you did to survive.
Tears were welling up in your eyes, Snow already took everyone you loved away from you. He no longer had any leverage to use you as one of his puppets, except to send you back into the arena. You ran your hands through your hair, you were not going to give him the pleasure of seeing you cry. You were going to look flawless and emotionless. He won't get you down, not this time.
Two hours later you were standing next to Mags. She held your hand tightly in hers while you were waiting for the reaping. They had placed all the previous winners of the games in front of the audience. One group consisted of the female winners and a second group where the male winners stood. ‘The time has come to select one courageous young man and woman for the honour of representing District Four in the 75th annual Hunger Games. As usual ladies first!’ Not me, not me, not me was all that you could think. There was a one in three chance that you would be chosen for this Quarter Quell, and you hoped to hear Annie's or Mags’ name, not caring for their well-being at the moment. It was selfish but you were sure that you wouldn’t survive a second time in the arena. The Capitol escort dug into the glazed jar until a single piece of paper remained between her fingers. She tiptoed to the microphone in her ridiculously high heels and cleared her throat uncomfortably. Everyone held their breath, waiting to hear which victor had to re-enter the arena. Not me, not me, not me. ‘Y/N Green.’
All eyes turned to you and you could see your face on the big screen that was hanging above the makeshift stage. You were dumbfounded and stood rooted to the ground. Mags squeezed your hand in an attempt to reassure you a little. Not again. ‘Fuck.’ you breathed out as the peacekeepers walked towards you and reached for your frame. ‘I can walk on my own, don’t fucking touch me.’ You slammed their hands away and gave them a poisoned look. You were furious. Several sighs left the audience, some of relief the others of disbelief. Annie and Mags started crying, they were relieved that they wouldn’t have to re-enter the arena. On the other hand, their hearts broke for you because they knew what hell awaited.
‘And now for the boys.’ You zoned out, not caring about what was going on. Flashes of your first games raced by. You never trained as a career, well not fully but you were pretty skilled in hand-to-hand combat both on the ground and in the water. During your games you hunted the other tributes down, Taking advantage of your skills in hand-to-hand combat. ‘Thomas Henderson.’ You were startled out of your train of thoughts when you heard his name. Unconsciously, you held your breath and let out a relieved sigh when you saw him walking towards the stage. That was the other thing, during your years in the victor's village and the Capitol you- ‘I volunteer as tribute.’ The public gasped in union when the words echoed through the air. His voice was laced with confidence, a weird sound in this kind of situation. Your jaw almost dropped. Thomas stopped in his tracks as the other was guided towards the stage. ‘What are you doing?’ You hissed as the bronze-haired man took place next to you. He gave you one of his famous smirks as you turned your head towards him. ‘Keeping you alive Green.’ His voice was as raspy as you remembered. ‘Since when do we take care of each other? Last time I checked you made yourself perfectly clear when you said you wanted nothing to do with me. Now I just have to go the extra mile to kill you too.’ He shook his head as he heard the threat. He and Mags were your mentors during the games while he was only a year older than you. He had the reputation of being a lady's man, charming everyone with his boyish grin. ‘I forgot how fierce you were, huntress.’ His cocky grin hadn’t changed over the last couple of years. It was a grin you loved at one point but now only despised, you wish you could smack it from his face. ‘Well, wait another week and you will be able to find out for yourself.’ He tilted his head a bit to the side, ‘Is that a promise y/n?’. Before you could say anything, the voice of the Capitol escort echoed across the square: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes from District Four: Y/N Green and Finnick Odair.’
#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair x reader#hunger games x reader#hunger games fanfiction#Hunger games fic#Finnick odair#finnick Odair fic
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stray my stand in thoughts in no particular order (e1-7 spoilers) ~
sorry it's long lmao I have a lot of jumbled thoughts that I need to yell about so this is me screaming into the void
Joe being used as a stand in by ming and tong is very telling
ming honestly doesn't act like a spoiled rich brat. he's occasionally entitled, but he's very polite to staff and he genuinely cares for his sister.
I don't think that ming wants to hurt his sister. he wants tong to choose him instead of his sister so that he can break her heart instead and then ming isn't to blame
idk if ming was ever trying to be subtle to Joe about what he was to him. he flat out told him he was a stand in (just didn't mention for who)
Joe getting a second chance at a maternity figure only to have her immediately fall into major trouble and then health issues has got to be triggering the fuck out of Joe rn
do we find out where Joe 2.0's spirit is at all? and what happened to OG Joe's body??
jfc poom is so pretty I can't focus
ik sol and ming are more than likely gonna become friends at some point but my messy ass would LOVE to see them be bitter bitches to the end with each other
where did ming get the chain....?
it's making me so fucking sad that Joe is falling back into his previous direct footsteps bc of his situation and its literally all he knows to do. same people, same habits, same mannerisms, same career, everything
he has an opportunity to completely rebrand and live his life without being under ming's thumb but he is consciously choosing to stay around him. why? what is so alluring about the person who used and emotionally cheated on you for who knows how long and then drunkenly called you the target of his actual affections????
Joe is not only too humble. I think he genuinely doesn't think he deserves better. this life is all he's ever known and he's never had the stones to try and improve himself and get his own life
his job is literally to be a nameless, faceless body double who does the work for a person who gets to take all the credit
(not that I'm shit talking real stunt doubles. y'all are the core of my fave action movies and ily)
but it says a lot about Joe's character and how passive he is usually and it's so interesting to me that he's the big risk taker when it comes to his stunts but he's too scared to make a move to improve his life or branch out on his own
those inconsiderate little bitches. you can't just add a character willy nilly to an already finished script. it'll throw off the whole movie and that's way more work for the writers
yo that hesitation at Joe not being able to break those mugs???? I felt it physically that was GOOD FUCKING ACTING
sol has never done anything wrong in his life he could murder someone in front of me in cold blood and I would help him cover it up
I would come out to sol i trust him with my party drink I'll go to war for him
damn bro how the hell did Joe get roped into being a stand in for HIMSELF that's some meta shit right there. like how is this not just self harm bc that's what it seems like to me
tharn? that's a new name. will we meet him?
ming's condo being green and gold like Joe's old house I am chewing on fucking concrete
OH THE MIRROR SWIPE THE HARSH REMINDER THAT HE IS IN ANOTHER BODY AND THAT HE IS USING THAT BODY AS A STAND IN FOR HIMSELF AND THAT HE NOT ONLY SOLD HIMSELF TO MING BUT HE SOLD JOE 2.0'S BODY GOD THAT WAS *chefs kiss*
is the backception here that ming is kissing Joe 2.0's back bc it reminds him of OG Joe or because it reminds him of Joe reminding him of tong hmmmmmmmmm either way: seek help babe you have a problem
the juicy juicy parallel of ming waking up to an empty pillow I'm gulping this shit down like water this is my life blood rn thank you for the delicious meal
i am not immune to the mesh shirt
AHA I THINK I JUST MET THARN
Update: I am correct
JOE'S ACCIDENT WAS A SUICIDE ATTEMPT?!?!?!?!? holy fuck bro
I thought I was going to hate ming a lot more when I started this bc I have a lot of manipulation trauma but I kind of.... get him
how old is tharn supposed to be bc he looks 16 and it's unsettling
I knew we couldn't trust that twink
YAS BABE YOU LOSE YOUR SHIT YOU YELL YOU GET MAD YOU TELL PEOPLE TO FUCK OFF YOU KICK THARN OUT OF YOUR ROOM DESERVE TO UNHINGE YOURSELF A BIT
ming is about to step off the edge I can feel it this man is about to overflow and drown everyone around him in his search for Joe
"tOng PlaYed tHe scENe hImsELF" oh so tong has always been a piece of shit got it
shut the fuck up why am I actually getting emotional over ming realizing that his Joe is the one in front of him and that it's been him all along
but on another note I am going to pound him into the cement for interrupting that shoot I hope the footage wasn't ruined by ming's emo ass
the back hug with the clear JOE though and comparing it to their first meeting?? stupendous no notes
up is going in a bubble I am kissing his forehead he acted the fuck outta that last scene MWAH
#my stand in#my stand in the series#ming x joe#joe x ming#up poompat#poom phuripan#sorry i had many things to say and no one else to yell to so on the public internet it is lmao
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My guardian angel🤍𓆩♡𓆪☁️
Chapter 3
Plot summary: Drug Dealer Ellie Williams X OFC slowburn fic, out of universe and takes place in college, set in the 2000s. Smut content to come.
Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 4
Tags: #wlw #sapphic #drugdealer!ellie #modern!ellie #tlou #slowburn #smut #fluff #tlouau #au #modernau #drugs
Chapter 3
The morning after, I woke up on the couch covered with a blanket. The light was shining through the blinds and the birds were singing, that was my first night of real sleep since a week. Lana who was sleeping on my lap started meowing to make me feed her. I finally got the energy to open my eyes and stand up to give food to my cat. Suddenly I looked around realizing she wasn't here anymore.
A wave of emptiness submerged me. My house is still a mess because I was still too lazy to do anything about it. I took a shower, my head full of questions : Why did she leave without telling anything? Did she even care at all? Am I just another stupid drug addict to her? I guess I'll never know. Anyway, it's not my problem anymore. I have more important things to think about like where to find my opiates. Right now I'm feeling better but I know I couldn't handle another day sober.
I put on another pyjama after getting out of the shower when I heard the door opening. I quickly left the bathroom and ran to the leaving room full of joy. Here she was ; she had 2 bags of groceries in her hands and a big backpack; could this be what I was thinking about ? No, she’s too busy to do this. She probably came to say goodbye.
-Ok so, I saw that the fridge was empty, I bought you eggs, pastas… She started to enumerate what she bought for me and explained that she wanted to stay with me for the weekend. I was right, she was about to stay here for a while.
-Thank you so much I don't know what to say Ellie that’s so kind of you, how much do I own you? And why do you want to stay here? I’m not at my best you know..
-Nothing, she said, it’s my pleasure if I can help you. I’m gonna stay here for the week-end and yeah I saw that you’re not at your best. I don’t want to be a passive watcher of your fall, that's also why I want to stay with you.
I was so happy to hear this, I don't know if she would be able to do anything to help me heal but her attention was already enough to make me feel better. She installed her clothes then we talked about my situation while eating. I explained to her how I was feeling about what happened.
-I'm gonna give you some meds. If I see that you’re about to vomit or you’re shaking or about to faint I’ll give you something. If you’re feeling bad and start thinking too much about it just talk to me. I listened carefully to her instructions and she continued.
-Do you think you'd be able to clean your place with me?
All alone I could never clean all that, I couldn’t even find the motivation to eat but now she’s here I dont know why but it seems effortless. She got up, turned on MTV and dragged me by the arm to the kitchen. I did the dishes as she was throwing out my spoiled groceries that were still in my fridge and placed the new ones she just bought. Then we picked up all the clothes that were around my house then she did a machine while vacuuming and cleaning the dust everywhere. We changed my bedsheets, cleaned the bathroom and even gave a bath to Lana.
Later, we both felt hungry so we decided to bake pancakes. It was really fun, though we first argued on the measurements of the sugar, she gave up and let me add an extra amount of sugar to make them sweet enough. She was eating the leftovers of dough stuck in the spoons and bowls and as she wanted to give me a taste, she unintentionally put some dough on my face which led to a little -very cliché romcom like- fight of trying to put dough on the other’s face. We were running around the kitchen aisle when she finally caught me and we started to calm down. She wiped the dough I had on my cheeks and forehead with her thumb then we went back to baking. The dough was ready, it was time to bake them on the pan. She was making them flip in the air like a pro which I strangely found very attractive of her. She tried teaching me but I made the pancake fall and the dough that was not cooked yet spilled everywhere. She decided to not let me have control of the pan again for the rest of the recipe and I, instead, took charge of setting the table and doing the dishes we just dirtied.
We enjoyed our pancakes in front of SpongeBob Squarepants.
-You were right, the more the sugar, the better. She said.
-Told ya..
-Are you feeling tired or do you wanna go out now ?
-No I’m feeling good, what do you have in mind? In reality my head was hurting but I needed to stay occupied.
-I was thinking we could go to the fair maybe?
-Ohh yes sounds good for me, let me get ready first.
I took another shower after sweating like a pig with all this cleaning, I got dressed in a skirt, a tight top and my platform boots, put some makeup on then did my hair. In the meantime, Ellie took a shower and got ready too. We got into her car on the way to the fair. The smell of the popcorn, cotton candy and churros filled my nostrils, the sky was dark, the stars and lights from the attractions were lighting us. We decided to go for a ride on the big wheel, we sat next to each other, her arm behind my neck, as we enjoyed the beautiful view from the top. I spotted a thrilling roller coaster. I begged Ellie to go for a ride with me until I had to drag her by her hand. We had a lot of fun, I felt like a kid.
Then, she decided to play a shooting game that could earn us a big teddy bear. After 3 shots, she finally managed to get the target; we were handed a big green dinosaur plushie. I felt so excited, it kinda looked like a date. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder, violently turning me around; I was a little shaken up and turned with furrowed eyebrows to see the person who was assaulting me when I ended up face to face with Emily. My heartbeat immediately increased, my throat felt as tight as a bow.
-How dare you step foot at any party, how dare you pretend like nothing happened ? You’re such a pathetic selfish bitch. Do you ever even think about what you did and how much it impacted me ? Going on cute little dates with your stupid girlfriend while Jonathan is dying at the hospital ?? How can you even handle looking at yourself in the mirror?
I was left speechless, tears started to fill my eyes, my hands were shaky. She was right; I’m so selfish. I’m thinking about this day on repeat all day long but I didn’t even really try to check up on them. After my treatment started to make me feel crazy, I couldn’t focus on anything else than drugs. I guess it was easier than facing my responsibilities and the horrible consequences my actions had on my friends’ lives. I was just looking for something to focus on other than this. Emily has lost her scholarship after not being able to stay in the soccer team due to her injuries. Jonathan was still in a coma, his parents are visiting and praying for him everyday. I’ve been the luckiest out of us three yet I can only think about MY problems, MY addiction, MY guilt.
After what felt like forever of just standing there, Ellie took me apart in a more quiet area. She handed me a glass of water to try to calm me down. She pulled me into a hug and I let myself cry into her arms. We agreed it was time to go back home. Yet again we were driving to my house, making ourselves comfy on the couch while she reassured and took care of me. The day after we spent a while talking about everything and I understood focusing on drugs was selfish, I need to take action and try to fix what I can; Ellie said she’ll help me with everything and will stay with me all along but once the weekend was over, I quickly came back to reality.
#wlw#lgbt#lesbian#sapphic#tlou#ellie tlou#modern ellie#ellie williams#ellie x fem reader#the last of us#fluff#smut#drugs cw#slow burn#trauma
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When Everything Changed | Part 5- Finale
18+ ❤️🔥 MDNI ‼️
Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader
Enemies to lovers
Part 4 | Master list
The truth comes out
“When are we going to admit that this isn’t hate?” He murmurs and kisses your head.
You didn’t want to answer him because you knew you never hated him. You may be annoyed by him at times but the truth was, a sick thrill shot through you when you bickered with him. It always had.
“It’s easier to hate you,” you whisper, still lying against him on the floor.
You’re fucked out, you can’t move after what he did to you.
“Why?” His voice is so low you’d miss it if you weren’t on him. You shake your head.
“Getting close to someone in this field is dangerous. Look at us,” you wriggle free and turn to face him. “We were both shot.”
“The average FBI agent is shot once in their entire career, most not at all. The odds of that happening to one of us again are slim,” he reasons. You drop your shoulders.
“Spence,” you sigh.
“I know you don’t hate me. You want to. But you can’t,” he stands and moves over to the couch where he wraps himself in a blanket.
You sigh and get your footing under you, your legs still wobbly and pull on your underwear.
“I thought that was just about getting it out of our systems,” you stand in front of him which forced him to look up at you. He winces and his throat injury though and stops. You sit on the coffee table in front of him.
“Did it work? Am I out of your system?” He stares through you.
The truth was, you didn’t think you’d ever get enough of him after that. You had never been with someone who could work your body so well. You simply shake your head ‘no’.
His eyes level with yours.
“I’m not asking for a relationship. I’m asking you to stop pretending that this-“ he grabs your arm and yanks you towards him until his face is in front of yours. “Isn’t fun. That you haven’t gone home after a heated argument with me and finger fucked yourself.”
“How did you-“
“You’re not as good as you think at managing your micro expressions,” he gives you a sky grin.
He had been alot better at that part than you.
“You’re not as inconspicuous as you might think,” you jerk your arm away from his grip.
“Yeah?” He tilts his head, challenging you.
“"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation, It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."” You quote from his journal, from Jane Austen.
His mouth falls open, he was utterly shocked.
“You read my journal that night,” he stands, angry.
“I just saw the blurb you fell asleep writing,” you respond and cross your arms.
“Writing a quote from a book isn’t proof of anything,” he snaps. “I have an eidetic memory, I do that sometimes.”
“Maybe, but look how pissed you are,” you scoff.
You’re being an asshole and you know it. His cheeks turn red and he moves from the small space where you had been facing him.
“Pissed you made an assumption about my feelings for you, yeah,” he raises his voice. It’s still scratchy.
“What feelings Spencer?” You shout and march over to him. “Why are you so angry if there are no feelings?” Now you’re grabbing his arm and turning him towards you.
You ignore your phone ringing, a text follows it.
He glares at you, his eyes travel over your body where you’re only wearing a tank top and panties. You didn’t back down though, you wanted him to admit what his pride wouldn’t let him.
Both of you were acting like children in the face of your feelings. You were aware of it. He had to be too.
“Let go of me,” he demands.
“No,” you dig your nails into his bicep. “Tell me the truth.”
“The truth?” He huffs a laugh and tries to take his arm back from your grip. You double down and place a hand on his chest, pinning him against a bookshelf. “The truth is, if you don’t let me go, I am going to fuck you until you can’t walk,” he whispers. His words travel through you, straight to your still sore pussy. Your heart pounds in your throat and in your head at his threat.
His phone rings and you drop your hands to let him get it.
“Morgan,” he pauses. “Yeah, good. Okay sounds good.” He hangs up and turns to you. “They got him, everyone’s good. We can start our reports after we sleep.
You glance at the clock, 4am. Damn. Sleep sounds amazing.
“Okay,” is all you say. You’re glad the team is safe but your mind is whirling from Spencer’s words, his actions.
“Why don’t you take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” he sighs.
“No you’ve been in the hospital for weeks. Go sleep in your bed,” you demand, pointing to his room.
“It doesn’t matter what I say, you always have to argue or disagree,” he shakes his head.
“I’m trying to be considerate. God you’re impossible,” you groan.
He appears behind you, his body pressing against yours. You wonder if he can sense your arousal after his threat, after going back and forth with him.
“Go get in my bed,” his words are lethal. They leave no room for arguing.
You step forward out of his reach and hurry into his room. Fine, you’d sleep in his bed. You were trying to be nice, so much for that. You slam his door closed behind you.
You pull back the comforter, his bed perfectly made and slide in between the black silk sheets.
You think you hear him approaching the door after using his en suite bathroom, or maybe you hope you do. But he never enters. You watch the ceiling fan spin slowly in the dark. You had never been so sexually satisfied and the frustrated in such close succession.
You groan and put a pillow over your head. It doesn’t help, it smells like him. Annoying, sexy, frustrating him.
You toss and turn in the dark for what has to be an hour before you give up and stare back at the ceiling. Of course you left your phone in the damn living room.
This was torture, knowing he was out there, being surrounded by his scent in his bed. Maybe you could just make yourself cum once and you’ll be able to sleep. That would be plenty right? Especially after the amount of times he made you orgasm already. You bet you’d sleep blissfully. You kick the covers off and spread your legs wide, the cold air from the fan blowing over your pussy.
You slide your hand over your stomach and down into your panties. You’re surprised to find your clit so swollen with need, sensitive to the touch from overuse but begging for more. Begging for him. God you wanted him again.
Your eyes roll back as you begin to circle your clit, pressing hard and grinding your hips against yourself. You turn your head and moan into the pillow as you remember him between your legs.
“Finally that mouth is good for something,” you remember saying. Fuck it was so hot the way he looked up at you from between your legs.
“Dirty girl,” comes Spencer’s gravely voice from the doorway of his bedroom. You hadn’t heard the door open.
You startle and throw the blankets back over yourself. You were well and truly caught.
You see him saunter towards you in the dark and the bed dips as he crawls over you.
You meet his eyes, his own full of hunger.
“Show me how wet you are,” he whispers in your ear. You moan and bring your fingers up, shoving them in his mouth. He sucks gently, sliding his tongue between your fingers. You imagine the way that motion felt in your pussy.
He pulls the blanket off of you and kneels between your legs. He forces your knees flat to the bed so you’re spread wide for him. You wonder how many women he’s had in this position in this very spot. It’s fucking hot to imagine, Spencer, a womanizer. It was the only explanation for his filthy mouth and skills.
He pushes your panties to the side and pumps his long middle finger into you with ease.
“Let’s make a deal,” he muses and tilts his head as he slowly withdrawals his finger to the tip.
“Hmm,” you can’t talk. He presses it back in torturously slow.
“You’re going to tell me how you really feel about me. Then and only then will I expose my true feelings to you,” he hums as he slides his finger in and out of you. “I know you’re stubborn so I’m more than willing to fuck it out of you if I must.”
He removes his finger completely.
“Because the truth is, I want you to know how I feel,” he murmurs and bends down to kiss your pussy. Your underwear an all too cruel barrier.
Your arch up towards his mouth and he nips you with his teeth. You moan loudly.
He tears you free of your underwear and settles between your legs, looking up at you with pleading eyes.
“Deal Spencer, please,” you beg and push your throbbing pussy towards his mouth. You needed him so bad, needed some kind of friction.
He pushes his tongue into your entrance and drags it all the way up through your folds, soaking his tongue. He lets out a sinful groan, pleased.
His two middle fingers find your entrance and curl upward, causing you to squirm at the blinding pleasure. He pins you down with his other arm across your hips and pumps into you while he sucks and licks at your clit.
“Spencer please it’s too much,” you cry out. You can’t believe how good it feels when he speeds up his tongue and applies more pressure inside of you.
“Tell me or I’ll stop,” he pauses. Leaving you to pant for a moment.
“I-“ you whimper.
He resumes his expert movements, winding you so tight it’s painful. You need to cum, you can’t take much more.
“You’re not listening,” he hums and withdrawals his fingers and mouth just as you’re approaching a euphoric orgasm.
“When we almost lost you, I realized I felt more,” you pant, your eyes blowing wide as you look down at him. His pink lips glisten with your arousal and he grins before sliding those wicked fingers back into you.
“Good girl,” he speaks against you and gives you want you want.
He pulls your clit into his mouth while his fingers pump you violently, curling to reach that spot deep inside of you. He presses you harder into the mattress, applying mind numbing pressure to your uterus. You’d never felt anything like it, how was he… how did he…
“Spencer!” An uncharacteristic scream erupts from your throat as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced crashes through you.
You’re shaking around his fingers as he plants kisses against your pussy and slowly removes them. He plunges them into his mouth and licks them clean until you’re staring at him in awe. He was so fucking beautiful.
“That was easier than I thought it would be,” he crawls on top of you. His hair falls forward as he stares into your eyes. You whimper in defeat.
“I’m scared I’m falling for you. It makes me angry,” you whisper.
To your surprise he leans down and kisses you, his lips impossibly soft and warm.
“I’ve already fallen for you. I’ll catch you. I won’t let you get hurt,” he speaks softly and kisses you again. His admission feels like the most gentle caress and the greatest victory.
His hands push under your body and he brings your arms above your head. He holds you there, kissing you desperately. Your tongue pushes back against his until you’re both breathless and he’s grinding his erection against you.
Neither of you were done with each other despite the admission. You could spend the next 24 hours with him between your legs.
This brilliant, irritating, and irresistible man had somehow broken his way into your heart. You didn’t know it until he was fighting for his life in a hospital bed.
A strange sort of determination settles over you. You wouldn’t chance losing him again without loving him first.
“You’re mine,” it’s not a question, it’s more like he’s declaring it.
“Yours,” you nod and kiss him hungrily again.
#spencer reid#mgg#criminal minds#mgg pics#dr reid#spencer reid one shots#spicy spencer reid#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid ai#spencer reid fanfiction#Spencer Reid complete fic#spencer reid hands#Spencer Reid hair
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All Too Well, Part 9
{"Mom, I'm tired. Can I sleep in your house tonight?"}
Part 1
It seemed like everything was falling to place for her. It was quite cool outside, but Miho didn't mind. Her hand was warm, interlaced with Suguru's. The six of them had taken a day trip to Shibuya. Her breath fogged in the air. Laughter rang out in the crisp fall air. Satoru was charging straight ahead, tossing his shopping bags to Kento, who threatened to drop them on the ground.
"I can't believe it's almost time to go home," Yu said, stretching his arms over his head, "Where are you guys going for the holiday?"
"We still have like three weeks," Miho said.
"I gotta go see my parents," Shoko sighed.
Yu and Kento both voiced similar plans. Satoru made a face. "I'll probably just go to Suguru's like last year."
"Don't you think you should ask first?" Kento asked.
"Why would I do that?"
"Because it's polite!"
The six teenagers stopped at the crosswalk. Suguru nearly stepped out, having been watching Miho the whole time. Satoru grabbed the back of his jacket just in time to keep him from walking out into traffic, snickering, "Eyes on the road, lover boy."
"What about you, Miho?" Yu asked.
Miho blinked at him, "Oh, I'll just be at the school."
"What about your parents?"
She shrugged, " Administration won't let me leave. I haven't seen them in almost two years."
Satoru pursed his lips, looking over at his friend. Suguru squeezed her hand. "We'll ask if they'll let you go this year. I'll go with you."
"What am I supposed to do?" Satoru whined.
Just as Suguru was opening his mouth to answer, a cell phone rang. Everyone checked their phones. It was Miho's.
"Speaking of my parents," she muttered, flipping the phone open, "Hey, mom."
The crosswalk light turned green. Her friends began walking forward. Suguru started, but stopped when she didn't follow. Miho was rooted to her spot. Her glassy eyes began to swell with tears. Suguru called out to their group before turning to her again. Her voice shook as she spoke.
"...Dad?"
---
Two hours later, she was sitting in a Nagano hospital waiting room. Miho stared forward, hands clasped tightly together. Her knee bounced rapidly. Suguru sat next to her, arms crossed. He reached over to grab her hand. She squeezed it tightly.
The hospital was full of lower grade curses. Nothing major, just the typical small fries often associated with the grief found there. She wasn't worried about them.
"Did they say how far the cancer progressed?" Suguru asked quietly.
"It's eaten up her insides," Miho said numbly.
He could only nod.
A man walked out, wearing a dress shirt and pants. He was a foreigner, most likely American if Suguru had to guess. A typical salary man, clean cut with short dark hair and green eyes. You could see the fatigue in his gaze from endless nights at the hospital, the deep wrinkles in his clothes from coming straight from the office.
Miho stood. Suguru followed.
"Dad," Miho barely managed.
Miho's Dad hugged her tightly. His face crumpled in grief, suddenly seeming much older than it really was. The man held his daughter as if the world were collapsing around them, as it surely was, as his only connection to his dying wife was suddenly tangible and in front of him. He kissed Miho on the top of her head.
Suguru kept his gaze down, silently standing so they could have a moment together. His phone buzzed quietly in his pocket. Suguru stepped to the side to answer. It was Yaga.
"Hello?" Suguru said in a low voice.
"Where the hell is Miho?"
"She's with me. In Nagano."
"She can't leave the school grounds without permission-"
Suguru lowered his voice, turning away. "Her mom is dying. We had to go."
Silence on the other end. Finally, Yaga said, "I'm sending Satoru. Just to keep the higher ups from pitching a fit. Do not allow her to use her technique-"
Suguru closed his phone and returned to the matter at hand.
"Dad, this my boyfriend," Miho said, gesturing to him.
Suguru smiled and bowed politely. "Suguru Geto. I'm sorry we're meeting under such circumstances."
Her dad returned the bow and reached to shake his hand. "Ray Tsukiyomi. I am too. Thank you for coming." He turned to Miho and sighed heavily. When he spoke again, it was in English. He asked Miho for help filing paperwork.
---
Her mother passed just hours later.
Suguru closed his phone, having just sent Satoru the address to the hospital. He stood outside of the hospital room, listening to Miho's quiet sobbing.
What a strange feeling it was. To hurt so much for someone, and yet be unable to do anything to help. Death was a natural phenomenon. They both faced it often in the field as Jujustu Sorcerers. But somehow it was entirely out his grasp how to make everything alright for her. They had only been dating a month. He wasn't close enough to be in there with her. But he was too close to simply stand in the hallway.
She stepped out while her dad went to tell the nurse. Suguru met her with open arms. He rested his chin on the top of her head as she sobbed into his chest. His arms enveloped her whole, like a life vest keeping her afloat. His heart ached with every sob that left her.
Satoru was rushing over to them as they exited the hospital, flowers in hand. He pulled Miho into his arms as soon as he was close enough.
"I'm sorry," he said into her hair, "I'm so sorry, Miho."
---
"Why didn't anyone tell me she had cancer?"
Trees whizzed by the train window. Miho stared at the passing scenery. She gritted her teeth, moving her hardening gaze to the empty plate in front of her as if she could shatter it with her mind.
Only a few hours until they were required to return to Tokyo.
"We told the school as soon as we found out. They said they would tell you." Her dad had said. "About six months ago."
Satoru was watching her from across the aisle. His glowing gaze flickered from her stony face to Suguru's. Thank goodness they had gotten a private booth seat. Miho was thankful for that. She didn't want to speak to anyone.
Her Cursed Energy was spiking. Suguru reached over to place his hand on her knee. It was both a warning, and a comforting gesture. Calm down. We're here for you.
At that very moment, she didn't want to be calm. She wanted to kick. And scream. And claw. She wanted to dig her fingernails into flesh and tear away at bone. As trees faded into buildings, Miho felt a deep anger simmering over her.
At that very moment, if given the chance, she would have killed every person in administration.
Part 1
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[dialogue template link]
#trying out a new thing#ffxiv screenshots#ajisaijar#pastjar#gposers#ffxiv gpose#im not happy with the dialogue; not 100% sure why but i just wanted to try this out#i want to explore ajisai's relationships in her decuria; especially with her decurion and her medicus veteranus#right now i'm thinking ajisai got assigned to a decuria much sooner than normal because healers are always needed and she has an aptitude#for it. officially she would've been a field medic so she would be 'jen' and she certainly would've taken an cognomen to make herself as#imperial as possible#ANYWAY#marcus pyr calidus is a piece of shit; he manipulated her into a corner where she couldn't understand conflicting messages#of praise and abuse; i'm still working out the details of what he does but for sure he was handsome and charming and maybe Ajisai was lowke#in love with him and would've done anything he asked ; and he totally took advantage of that#wanna know why ajisai has problems with authority? marcus pyr calidus bby#he's a big reason why ajisai tried to ditch haurchefant post one night stand and why she has a wall between herself and aymeric#is it love or is it the indoctrinated desire to please her betters/worship authority ?? is aymeric nice or is he working an angle#to make her more beholden to Ishgard? does she like him or is she just falling into line like a good little soldier?#who knoooowwwss?#i'm 100% just writing this shit in here so i can copy it down in the lil Ajisai binder I am apparently making because I'm obsessed
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If I'm anywhere, I'm back here defending Rath and Nettie and Apikusis
#BG3 Musing#they are very important to me#like if you say all the druids are assholes i am going to slap an asterisk next to that sentence#i saw a fic at one point refer to rath as 'spineless' and i was like ah yes spineless - the only man standing directly up to kagha#nettie tries to kill you if you aren't straight with her? as far as she knows you are one step away from turning into a mindflayer#and killing the lot of them - the option she offers you when you are reasonable is *logical*#and apikusus is openly refusing to help with kagha's regimen and sending birds to find halsin#there's the other druid in the enclave that is talking a big game of defense but not doing much else#than trying to calm down that racist elf#the shopkeeper is unfortunately very apathetic and defensive#the rest of them are varying levels of hostile#kagha herself is an interesting case because *again* she's a very clear example of what propaganda can do to people#who are already in positions where they can be taken advantage of - it's easy to argue that you would never fall victim to that#but don't make me tap the sign#she's *very* apologetic and begs for mercy if you *do* break her out of the shadow regimen#i'm not saying she was in the *right* - especially if arabella dies - but i am saying it's a really good narrative metaphor lesson
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friendship ended with Oblivio, Elation is my new best friend
#ml spoilers#YALL MARICHAT IS CANON????#I'M SO FUCKING NORMAL ABOUT THIS YOU CAN'T IMAGINE HOW NORMAL I AM ABOUT THIS#THEY KISSED and then casually put André's ice cream love propaganda in its place and Alya was so badass and supportive#and Tikki really is evil because LOOK AT THAT she isn't there for half an episode and the LS gets together oh who would have thought#I'm shaking I'm going crazy I love s5 SO MUCH#watch me not talking about anything else for the foreseeable future#also Marinette was so funny at the end like. ugh when will a boy love me? and Luka stands there with a 'this is fine' face bahaha#also Paris and social media needs to get out of celebrities faces#also also this is the way Adrien learns Marinette used to be in lvoe with him??? did he have a buttercup realization?#he ought to have a buttercup realization!!#or what does he think? Marinette used to be in love with Chat Noir first (Weredad). then Adrien (Marichat fakedate idk which ep)#then now again Chat Noir#no wonder he's so elated she will fall in love with Adrien again he thinks the girl switches her crushes like a record player#they will be so ELATED and EMBARRASED when they figure out the levels of clowning they have been doing I'm HYPED#also not me predicting this with Platonic Hickeys (kind of). I'm sorry but the scene where they are giving each other kisses increasingly#closer to the mouth is canon now I'm never going to recover goodbye#miaing
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maybe im an actual fucking freak but guess who’s been ugly crying for and hour bc of the dw s10 finale 🎉🎉🎉
#im set on it#12 is the best doctor#i dont make the rules okay listen to every line hes delivered#without witness without reward#always try to nice but never fail to be kind#bill potts gave her life so people she barely knew could live. nobody imitates bill potts. nobody mocks bill potts.#im so tired of losing people#when the doctor was me. when the doctor was me.#why not at the end just be kind?#thats the trouble with hope. its hard to resist#who i am is where i stand. where i stand is where i fall. what would you die for?#where theres tears theres hope#fuck evey other doctor actually#bc he wasnt refusing to regen childishly. he was being selfish but not childish!#asking if he deserves peace and rest???? everyone else is angry or sad#hes just tired and so so so alone. time is a colesseum#and hes the last pillar standing and he doesnt know when he put the universe on him own shoulders#but dammit if he doesnt want to be done#rant#dw#doctor who#bumblysdumbly
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~~~
#like i dont have the energy to try and get myself into a routine. work business as usual so future me doesnt have to#catch up with everything ive fallen behind and let fall apart#i dont have the energy to reassure anyone that im suicidal but i will be okay. i dont know that. i dont want to promise that#and i dont have the energy to talk to anyone. barely have the energy to leave the house but i cant stand being here so thats what helps#i already have a plan but im trying not to go through with it for the sake of my brothers. but im having trouble caring either.#i cant talk to anyone. i cant lie and tell them im managing bc im not. not even a little.#listening to music isnt working. getting high isnt working. sleeping and eating isnt working. going out for air isnt working#i dont know how to pull myself out of this. i dont know why this last fight with my mother was my breaking point but it was#and i regret reaching out for help because it only#it only showed me that no one will help me get out of this house. i have to do it myself. no one can save me from this.#and i feel all the less human for it#and im heartbroken because here are two adults. so called parents. put me through years of abuse and horror who i still manage to care for#and worry about. all while im not human to them. thats what breaks my heart. thats what hurts#i cant swallow it all up anymore. my body is just racked with terror all the time. i cant pretend to be happy and engaged when i feel so#incredibly fucking alone with this awful horror thats just always clinging to every part of my body.#i dont want to hurt anyone. i dont want to hurt anyone. i dont want to hurt anyone. i dont know what to do.#everyone loves me because ive given it my all to not base my actions on how much rage and hurt im carrying. or with family bc i stay in#the closet and turn the other cheek. because i take all my wants and i put them aside and i act based on not inconveniencing anyone#and thats such a stupid thing bc look where i am now.#no one sees me. no one knows how to help me. no one can help me. and i cant keep enduring this. i cant keep relinquishing choice.#i cant get myself to believe anything otherwise. and i want to be selfish. i want to do the most selfish thing i could ever do to others.
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The way I WANTED HIM
#the klock keeps ticking#gravity falls#i am 100% serious grunkle stan is why im gay#id be clenching my fists for years like i am straight I AM STRAIGHT#but then back in my mind it was like OKAY THEN EXPLAIN YOUR FEELINGS DURING THE ZOMBIE GRAVITY FALLS EPISODE WHEN STAN FOUGHT THEM OFF#HE WAS SWEATY OUT OF BREATH COVERED IN SCRAPES AND ZOMBIE BLOOD#and there was that part where the zombie ate his bat and he did not FLINCH he instantly brought out the brass knuckles#like that whole bit was for the gays like would i even be the homo who stands before you if zombie stan didnt halo#*happen#i then remember once i was like yeah okay men hot stan hot i brought it up to straight girl friends and they were like#what is wrong with you he is an old man??? he is hairy and chubby and a grandpa????#like okay you CLEARLY dont get it 🙄💅#this gives me art ideas now that im at it
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