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#also my mum has so much taste
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i was talking to my mum and i was like “yea i’m really struggling to connect to my peers and even some of my friends” and she was like “well you have kinda been through the wringer and had to mature super fast in a way that you can’t relate to them about” and. yeah.
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i really want some cookies or muffins but even if i had the energy to make them i can't because we live in an actively hostile society where butter costs 7 bucks a stick if you dont want palm oil in it, so i have to make the one i have last until it goes on sale IF it goes on sale.
i cant even get premade stuff from the bakery because i live in a city and there are none outside of the grocery store that put who knows what in their recipes, all of which make me sick if i eat the quantity id really like to.
can i substitute ingredients? no because im fucking disabled and allergic to soy and sensitive to oils. the fact premade things are now cheaper (clothing, food, anything) than getting to supplies to make things yourself is pure ablelism and false scarcity and even if its not outright killing us it IS making life unpleasant and difficult. even if our diets and lifestyles arent an able persons definition of healthy, we arent even allowed to try to do better for ourselves and im speaking as someone whos mum pays for groceries since we live on the same property, i cant imagine how much worse people on disability income have it
#ableism#disabilities#disabled#ibs#fibromyalgia#dietary restrictions#ssi#odsp#disability support#palm oil isnt even a food grade oil and its in butter or fed to cows and fucking rips my insides out#and im already sensitive to dairy unless its butter due to the processes in making it#but i have to be so careful that it comes from a good clean farm with healthy animals#this brand is reletively local but its still so expensive because they dont feed any of that shit to the animals and the packages never say#anything about whats fed to the animals or if its bulked up with palm oil but you can feel it cause anything with palm oil feels more solid#and its disgusting it tastes different too. and all i want is some oatmeal muffins#im starving i dont have a full kitchen so i basically live on bread cereal which im also low on because theres a shortage and chicken#which is disgusting and just ..not real chicken cause the brand i like discontinued their best breaded chicken breasts years ago#and the bread i have to eat i either have to make with flour thats fucking expensive as hell and pray i dont run out of yeast#or my mum has to drive two cities over to an independent bakery that uses pretty much the same recipe i do#but even if i could afford the ingredients i dont always have the energy and rn i DEFINITELY dont have an oven unless i want to haul all#my stuff upstairs and hope the gas oven doesnt fuck up and catch fire because thats just my life#im starving all the time and i dont want to be and i dont even have to be if my gut isnt already shredded#but we live in a world that would rather kill us than help anyone at all let alone dosabled folks#i also live in the worst fucking province after nb and quebec#its the most expensive part of canada even compared to bc which.. ......its fucked up considering they USED to be the most costly#but anyway i wake up and go to sleep hungry because i cant drive so i have to make sure i dont run out of the food i DO have and CAN eat#if my mum isnt dping a grocery run that day#dont ask me when the last time i bought salt was#that box is getting real low#but yeah im sick of living here and this world already hated me before i got this sick and i hope it all burns itself to ash 😌
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brewed-pangolin · 3 months
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Consider lovely charming Soap trying to make an innocent reader swoon for him, all for the reader to unintentionally pull an uno reverse on him. Hes chatting their ear off, talking himself up. All of sudden the reader interrupts him and says that he has the prettiest eyes they've ever seen. Johnny starts to malfunction, he can't talk, his face is going red hot.
Usually he doesn't get so tripped up but it came from such a genuine place, he tongue tied. Instead of him being a cassanova like usual he's just staring at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes and pining for you.
Blue Eyed Casanova
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Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader
18+ MDNI Sexual Themes
Synopsis: Johnny Casanova pulls you in with his eyes, and you shake up his world with nothing but an unconscious whisper.
--
Look, you can't just throw Johnny's eyes out there and not expect me to go a little crazy. His baby blues fill my soul, okay.
I went back and forth on this for a while. Wanted to do a full fic but went for the drabble instead. Hope you like it.
Also including this with @glitterypirateduck SoapItUp Challenge. Used Prompt 29.
Happy Super Soap Sunday 🧼
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You never thought you'd be so enthralled by a man while sitting at a coffee shop.
Hanging on every word, ears perking to the subtle nuances of his thick accent. Going all doey eyed as he reminisced about his younger years back home in Glasgow.
Eyes tracking his hands as accentuated his stories with gentle, undulating movements. Glancing every now and then at his luscious lips that just begged to be kissed.
You had to pull yourself back a few times. The urge to lunge over the table and lock him in an embrace, making your skin tingle and stomach churn with overwhelming eagerness.
But it was his eyes. Those gorgeous, cerulean orbs that sparkled like diamonds in the soft light of the morning sun. A blue that enchanted, pulled you into the maelstrom of his soul, and you were nothing but a wading vessel lost in his turbulent sea.
-
"You have such pretty eyes, Johnny," you whispered under your breath. Barely audible.
Johnny froze mid sentence. Hands raised, cupping the bulk of his account between his palms with his mouth agape and eyes twinkling in boyish bewilderment.
"W-what ya say?"
You smiled. Unashamed at being caught by your verbal plunder.
"I said, you've got the prettiest eyes I've ever seen."
Johnny closed the cavern of his gaping mouth with a dramatic gulp. Adam's apple undulating beneath the flesh of his neck as a rosey hue radiated over the circumference of his cheeks.
And those eyes glistened. Exploding waves of color like a supernova within the whites of deep space.
"Uh- me eyes? Ya- ya like me eyes?" He stuttered. That confident Casanova overtaken by childlike astonishment at the most beautiful words he'd ever heard.
"Yeah, Johnny. I do."
"Um, thanks. Got 'em from me mum. She's got th'most hypnotizin' stare I've ever seen. Y'know, the kind that..."
You couldn't help the curl to your mouth as he rambled on once more. The skiddish waiver on his tongue was all the confirmation you needed that your words had had the unconsciously planned impact.
You leaned over, just enough to cup his jaw in your hands to render him silent to your oncoming approachment.
"You talk too much," you purred, just before placing a tender kiss on his welcoming lips.
A subtle moan reverberated deep within his throat, making your eyes flutter closed as it vibrated against your mouth and echoed down the curve of your spine and into the hollow of your core.
The faintest gasp escaped your lips as you felt his tongue beg for entry into your mouth.
Granting him. Tasting him. Savoring the flavor of espresso and last night's whiskey on his breath as the calloused flesh of his palm cupped the supple curve of your jaw.
You wanted more. Needed more. Begged for the world to disappear and let his skilled hands work you over as his mouth greedily devoured your heart and soul.
The last remnant of your sanity made you pull away. A hushed whimper fell from your lips as your eyes cracked open to see the very flushed face of one breathless Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish.
"Steamin Jesus, lass. Was tha' your plan th'whole time? Makin me swoon all over ya, only fer you to get me all wrecked by them pretty words a'yers?"
"Maybe. Did it work?"
He nodded. Eyes swirling, bright blue darkening like an approaching storm.
"Aye. It did."
He leaned in to take your lips once more, yet you halted him. Pressing your fingers to his mouth while you pursed your lips with a knitted brow.
"Not here. Need somewhere more private."
"Why? Cannae I kiss ya out in public?"
A devious smile crept into your lips. Leaning in while simultaneously grabbing at your purse. Bringing your mouth to his ear to mutter the sweetest temptation and force a pleasured shrill down his spine.
"I don't want you to kiss me on my lips up here, Johnny. I want to see how pretty those eyes are gonna look between my thighs."
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Drabbles Masterlist
@deadbranch @sofasoap @punishmepunisher @d3athtr4psworld @glitterypirateduck @shotmrmiller @ghosts-goldendoodle @astraluminaaa @writeforfandoms @obligatoryghoststare @homicidal-slvt @jynxmirage @queen-ilmaree @thetrashpossum @tacticalanxiety @simpingoverquestionablemen @mykneeshurt @kkaaaagt @haurasha @havoc973 @luismickydees @foxface013 @designateddeadend
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youronlydarlin · 3 months
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warning: kinda sad ANGST, Simon losses you :( , ooc kinda?? But he's soft for you only, trust me bro
This was kinda inspired by that one part in the comics where our poor, Si holds his mums skull, n he jus'... Kinda nuzzles into it. I dunno it just bought on some sad feeling, mkay...
Simon who slightly raises the cup of tea he's drinking each time he has one, just to let you know he's relaxing. Or trying his best too, at least. Doesn't know what he'll do if he worried you from beyond the grave. Sometimes he looks at all the belongings you left behind. Saying how they probably miss you, but not nearly as much as he does.
Unlike some, Simon uses your things. He doesn't want the house to go through the pain of loosing you too. So he drinks from your mug, and sits on your chair. Reads your favorite books, but never takes out the book marks in case you want to continue reading them. He also completes your bucket list for you, and even though he's the one doing them he always whispers 'good job, to the wind, hoping they'll carry the messenge to you.
Simon who speaks to your framed pictures. He remembers each, and every memory behind them. "Bet your happy... Now it'll always be my turn to grab the 'bloody groceries.." he jests. He hopes that one made you laugh. Knowing you, you would've. It's a mystery how you always laughed at his lame jokes. Though your laugh's always been better than the awful punchlines.
Simon who passes by that cafe you bugged him to go with you to, and he feels his throat go dry. He never got to take you there because of a sudden call from Price, telling him about an urgent, albeit sudden, mission. He definitely regrets not taking you out on dates more often. There's so many shops opening that he knows you would've loved to see.
Simon who's heart breaks at how quickly the world turns without you. Everything's moving so quickly, leaving him behind like it's already moved on, and he hates it. He hates how there's less clothes to fold now. Food is served, but only for one. The taste of it is flavorless, and dry. It's times like these, that he wishes he should have took the time and learn your recipes.
But what's worse, is that your side of the bed is cold. And it'll remain that way forever. At times he'll reach for you absentmindedly. Nightmares about war traded for dreams about you, but during those dreamless nights where sleep doesn't visit he'll stroke your pillow the same way he'd do to keep your hair out of your face, and pull the covers over the empty space you once occupied. He wonders if it's cold where you are right now. But just know that he's always willing to warm you up if ever you come back.
Simon who...
Stands at the doorway. Bag slinged over his shoulder, full of everything he needs and more for deployment. He knows he can't leave without properly saying goodbye, so he fishes out his wallet, and digs out a picture of you. He holds it up to his face, and it's funny. How you're not even staring at the camera when the photo was taken. No, you were staring at him. This one's always been his favorite. So he clears his throat, and wishes you don't hear the slight shake in his tone.
"..By now you would've told me to be careful.. And I will, by the way. But, m' sorry for all the times I didn't...'
....
" I have to go now. Don't need them gettin' on my ass for 'being late.. so.."
....
"..You just rest now, ok, love? There's nothing else for you to worry about' anymore. I love you, always. Wish me, and the boys luck, yeah?.."
He gives a light kiss to your photo, and it's as if you're with him when he steps outside the door..
a/n: This was a challenge to write, and I don't know what to feel about the results. I'm just polishing my english, I guess. M'not good at writing angst, you can probably tell, also my grammar feels off on this one, again. English isn't my first language, sorry. So please correct me on any mistakes I've made! But putting all that aside, I hope you like this more than I do! And, always remember that you are loved, and cared for! Have an amazing day, my darlings!
Yours, truly,
–dolly
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cordeliawhohung · 7 months
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Since you still have to go to a family dinner tonight: what would a family dinner with Simon or Price look like? Do you think they‘d be more talkative around your relatives, or just listen and/or suffer through it in silence? Do they leave room for dessert? And are you staying until the end or leaving as soon as it’s socially acceptable to catch up on much needed sleep? ❤️🌙 - A
Ah yes, family dinners a;skldfj they're fun but gosh can they be exhausting! luckily everyone only stayed around for about two hours, and as much as i'd love to catch up on sleep, i have terrible insomnia, so enjoy these little drabble/headcanons of our boys instead <3
But ah, Price, my love, I have yet to give him the attention he deserves!!!
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Family Dinner with Price and Simon
I feel like Price is the perfect gentleman, and would be great to take home to your parents!! Your mother would be instantly smitten with him with that charm he holds and the sweet tone to his voice. Careful, she might try and steal him from you! He gets along fine with your father, though there is this awkward tension between the two of them. Just fatherly instincts of course, but Price is good with the small talk that comes with these type of events.
I can just imagine sitting at the table, Price next to you trying to choke down the bitter taste of wine (because your mother told your dad he needed to lay off the beer) and he smiles as everyone converses. He eats the lavish meal your mum spent hours preparing, and even though he definitely did not save room for dessert, he can't say no to the brownies she baked!
I also imagine that this man is trying to hold your hand at least half the time. Underneath the table, he reaches for your hand and pulls it to rest on the edge of his thigh just so he can rub his thumb over your knuckles. He does it because he loves your touch, but maybe also to calm his nerves. (any man who isn't afraid of his partner's parents is a stupid one.)
By the end of the night your mother is chatting him up, asking what he does for work, how much time he has off, and if he'll be free for another dinner sometime in the future. It's not until the second dinner that Price fully wins your dad over by bringing a small case of beer with him as a gift (but really, he brought it for himself because there's no way in hell he's choking down that wine again).
Simon? Well, he's certainly a gentleman, but your mother does not like him in the least. What's with his mask? Sure he took it off at the table, but he looks like a criminal! (i feel like he would remove his mask for a dinner with parents because there's no way this man would just sit at the table and brood lmao). And what's with that tattoo peeking out beneath his sleeve? He's more of a brute than a boyfriend )))):
Your father, on the other hand, laughs at least twenty times that night due to Simon's dry, and flat humor. It's the type of jokes that gruff old men enjoy and the puns dads harass their children with. Your mother doesn't start warming up to Simon until later in the night. He's been quiet and reserved the whole night, not really speaking much about himself, and really, you've done all the talking for him. Eventually, something sort of clicks in Simon, and he goes off on this ramble about you of all things. A funny story of a mishap back at the flat, or maybe some milestone in your life that you had forgotten to tell your parents. Seeing you through his eyes makes her soften up a bit.
Like Price, Simon stuffs himself full, as he's never been one to turn down a home cooked meal (especially because, let's face it, i doubt the man is all that great at cooking) but he has to politely decline your mothers delicious pie because of it ):
By the end of the night, Simon sneaks off to the kitchen at some point to do the dishes. You find him there, sleeves rolled up, that terrible tattoo (according to your mother) on display and shiny with soap and water, and you chuckle and tell him he doesn't need to clean up. He retorts by saying it's the only proper way to thank someone for a meal. (i'm dying on this hill that acts of service is his love language) Your mother walks in on the two of you, Simon covered in more water and soap than should be humanly possible (no thanks to you) and when she sees the smile on your face and the giggles rumbling through your throat, well, she's sending the two of you home with the left over pie and the request that you two return sometime soon. (:
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noirflms · 9 days
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THE HOUSEHUSBAND LIFE — hq men
haikyuu men as househusbands. or haikyuu men who’d be good househusbands in general.
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— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ AKAASHI KEIJI !
he is the one who keeps track of finance in the house , keeps track of how much you should spend even if you get a six-sum salary and love spending it on him even if he doesn't like it because he wants you to save for the future.
he also pretty much cooks all sorts of dishes and morning tea made by him is served to you in bed , he is just the best. buys groceries when you're out to work , keeps the house neat and clean — it's a penthouse so it's not much work as it's not that dirty all the time — keeps track of your health and if you're pretty much not skipping breakfast or lunch cuz he's there to spoon feed you at dinner.
he's not much fan of laundry just knows he has to fold it and keep it neatly in your shared closet and is pretty much a the best husband of all ( according to your mother ).
— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ SUGAWARA KOUSHI !
he is that type of house-husband who actually takes care of the loundry more than cooking and cleaning but still cleans the house just the way you like it — organized and neatly done. he doesn't step in the kitchen for he knows he might burn whatever he cooks so you don't let him step in there , it's either you come home and cook but if your tired , it's take out time!
whenever he does laundry he has a habit of smelling the clothes before folding for he like the smell of the detergent you use and the clothing softener should be if the best company because that is kinda professional when you go to work wearing soft and clean clothes.
dusts around the house with music playing in the background and does all the cleaning while blasting Oliva Rodrigo on the amazon echo you brought so he won't have to go on connecting his phone to the Bluetooth other than that he is just the best husband you could ask for.
— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ KITA SHINSUKE !
he is the package , can cook , cleans , does laundry , keeps track of all budgets and savings , knows every nook and cranny of the house and is happy being a house-husband for you. kita buys the best clothing softener and detergent , is a man of his words for if he promises breakfast in bed for you then you get it.
he sets up the house according to a taste that suits him and you like almsot all the time after seeing it on pinterest — yes HE HAS PINTEREST and you can't change my mind — cooks the best meals like you're in heaven to be eating such delicious meals , laundry is done and the house smells like lavander and you don't know how he does that and he keep it a secret ( it's just him using scented house cleaning stuff ).
grocery shopping is done with you because it's to lonely for him to go out so it's shopping time on the weekends , he is like a stay at home mum but you love him and for god sake who wouldn't want a man like KITA SHINSUKE.
— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ YAMAGUCHI TADASHI !
you enter the house with the smell of the most delicious food being cooked and when I say delicious , it's over the top delicious. he loves cooking so much that he forgets he has to clean as well and do laundry. yamaguchi almost does everything before stepping into the kitchen and prepare a bento for you in the early morning with starting to think for dinner — even though lunch is not even thought out yet — and what to be baked when your home.
it may not seem like but he has a passion for baking good for you.
he blasts playlist made for him by you and tsukki , and does the cleaning and laundry because sometimes it's to lonely in the house , he keeps track of time and when you're gonna come so he could prepare a bubble bath and then start with the cooking so you could have been relaxed and come eat with him.
when it's a weekend , he wakes up late but the breakfast is in his hands to be cooked , and in the evening it's time for him and you to have a baking session and you cherish this baby more than anything.
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NOIRFLMS 2024 ! all rights reserved - plagiarism is a crime , do not translate my works without permission.
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leviscolwill · 8 months
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glue song
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pairing: trent alexander arnold x reader
summary: after going picnicking with your little cousins, you feel like your relationship with your boyfriend has taken a new step (wc: 1k)
contents: established relationship, talk abt having kids, so fluffy you might die in it, suggestive ending i guess ??
note: i'm in a trent mood lately, just look at him being so babygirl. i want to be his controversially young gf so bad (gasly core)
reblogs and feedback are very very much appreciated 🫶
now playing: glue song by beebadoobee and clairo
when your cousin asked you to babysit her kids for the afternoon, you immediately accepted. you were very close to your family but still felt like you didn't see your cousin or her twin daughters enough so you jumped on the occasion.
trent had already met your family quite a few times but when you told him the news, he was already planning the whole day ahead wanting to make the most out of the afternoon you'll spend with olivia and amalia.
he'd prepared custom sandwiches for them according to their taste and he forced you to bake cookies with him for them.
"come on it'll be fun." he practically pleaded.
"but trent you know that we can't bake to save our life."
"we ? who is we ? i'm a great baker." he replied side eyeing you while grabbing every ingredient needed. it was the truth, sort of. trent was not a great baker but he was definitely better than you, his cookies were edible (most of the time) and even good, sometimes.
but baking with trent was always a hustle, you tried to focus on the recipe while he wanted to wing it, saying it would taste better this way.
"you should listen to the real chef here love, it's not a big deal if we don't put the exact same amount of vanilla you know. now, be a good sous-chef and grab the whip for me please" he told you with a cocky grin, he knew how you would react to his words, exactly how he wanted you to.
you grabbed the whip only to playfully hit his shoulder with it while trent dramatically whined that you wanted him injured for the start of the season.
it didn't surprise you that your boyfriend was this excited about spending his day with actual kids, the way he was behaving like one right now.
after at least an hour of battling with trent, and cleaning your flour-maculated kitchen, your cookies were ready. and after tasting one (for research purposes, of course), you could say they were good, 'probably the best thing ever baked' in your boyfriend's words.
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after a while, your shared house's doorbell finally rang, and trent nearly jumped out of his seat to open the door, you followed him and welcomed your cousin and her 7 year old daughters.
"thank you so much for babysitting them today, they're very happy to see their favorite aunty and uncle." your cousin beamed while giving you their bags, heavy with toys.
"we're also happy to spend some time with them, we have a great afternoon planned." you replied with a smile. trent who had his hand on your waist was quick to agree with you too.
after olivia and amalia hugged their mum goodbye, trent was already grabbing your bags full of sandwiches, sweets, and freshly baked cookies.
"uncle trent did you know my team won the school's football competition in may." amalia beamed at trent while she told him how she scored the winning goal for her team, thanks to her sister's brilliant assist. seeing trent and your little cousins get along this well made your chest feel warm at the scene, you almost wished for today to never end, although it was far from over.
once you settled your large blanket in the park, your boyfriend chose. you gave olivia and her sister their sandwiches with a kiss on their forehead. you turned around to take your own when you met trent eyes and his lovesick smile.
"why are you looking at me like that ?" you asked him with a shy smile as you felt the blush creep up your cheeks.
"do i need a reason to stare at my girl now ?" he answered, quickly pressing a kiss on your lips.
"ewww." olivia covered her eyes in disgust, while amalia pretended to throw up.
you laughed at their dramatic reactions and took a bite of the sandwich prepared by trent.
after the girls finished their sandwiches, they tasted the homemade cookies and absolutely loved them.
"of course they're perfect, they were made by liverpool's best baker." trent beamed pointing at himself. you rolled your eyes while olivia and amalia laughed at his ridiculous claim.
when it was finally time to go, you cleaned up everything while your cousins started walking to the car holding each other's hands.
"come on let's go home, my three princesses." he said, while bringing your hand to his lips to kiss the back of it and kiss the side of your head while you started walking, holding hands like teens.
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after your cousin picked up olivia and amalia, and thanked you again, the house seemed oddly silent. not the awkward kind of silence but a comforting one, the kind of silence you often shared with trent when words weren't needed.
"i really had fun today you know." trent broke the silence, stroking your hair.
"yeah, i noticed that, i'm glad you get on well with them."
"i think you'd be a great mum." he said almost in a whisper. you did not expect this. trent and you have been together for over a year already, but you've never had this talk.
"are you trying to tell me something ?" you asked, looking up at him.
"i don't know, not really, i was just thinking that maybe-" you put an end to his suffering quickly when you noticed his stammering.
"i'm joking trent... i think you'd be a great dad, the best actually."
he looked at you lovingly and kissed you in a manner that was definitely different than when the girls were here.
his kisses started trailing down your neck as you moved your head to the side, implicitly telling him to keep going.
"should we start practicing then mmh ?"
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enluv · 9 months
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THE GHOST OF YOU — TEASER!
pairing - park sunghoon x fem!reader
genre: sm!au, ghost!au, comedy, and I believe that’s all!
warnings: major character death (not necessarily sad but funny), grief (they joke around to grieve so nothing triggering), this teaser is set a year before the actual smau starts! tbh that’s all but if I missed something please let me know!
UPDATE: HELLO THIS SMAU IS NOW OUT! masterlist found -> here!!
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coco’s <3 note: this is a teaser for my new smau that will be published sometime after that’s the thing finishes (which is soon hehe) so I hope this can give you a small taste of what’s to come from it !! i didn’t add anything too crazy because i don’t wanna spoil it just yet :) if you have any questions feel free to send them my way! ALSO BECAUSE I GOT CONFIRMATION - tagging my love @odxrilove who has fr fr has helped me with this plotline so much without her I’d actually lose my mind on this smau !!
taglist is open! — send an ask or comment on the main masterlist to be added!
(please note: that i will not be answering asks immediately for this taglist, but rather I’ll be waiting till after the masterlist is posted, but you will be added to the taglist if you ask! I just wanna get ttt finished first!!)
PERM. ENHA TAGLIST! - @en-fvr @bloom-bloom-pow @nikis-mum @yourlocalhotgf @kyublr @spoooooooooooon @enhacolor @yoongimooni @blaqpinksthectic @gyuuss @eternallyhyucks @dinosdance @simpforsung @misschubswrites @junityy @jjunry @jwonsgirl @fxckingshame @stealanity @haoreo @jxp1t-3r @chaerybae @bobariki @vatterie (this is not the smau taglist)
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sanasballoons · 5 months
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Just finished watching ‘My Life with the Walter Boys’ and I have some thoughts:
- I can tell I’m too old to watch this shit bc the weird love triangle with two brothers just gave me the ick.
- Jackie was edging on Bella Swan territory but she was nice and actually had some ambition beyond being obsessed with a boy so she was slightly better. Still like nearly every other character in the show more than her though.
- Also they gave my girl the most ugly boring name - Jackie Howard? Really?
- I wanted to see more of both Nathan and Danny, such sweethearts. Also if there is a season 2 - Danny and Erin pls!!!!
- WHY DIDN’T WE GET TO SEE THE PLAY?!
- Nathan and Skylar, adorable but how Skylar resisted those huge blue eyes for so long is anyone’s guess.
- Alex was a bit of a whiney little bitch but Cole was INSUFFERABLE. Why did he do literally anything he did? He was an asshole who nearly redeemed himself before stripping it all away at the end.
- Cole ruining his mums speech is what made him unforgivable for me, what a tool.
- Felt sorry for his friend too even though he was kind of an asshole, he was obviously just trying to cling onto their friendship and Cole just didn’t seem to care much.
- Basically Cole is a selfish asshole who isn’t nearly as deep as he thinks he is.
- Kiley deserves the world, Alex doesn’t deserve to even make direct eye contact with you sweetie, he has no taste. JUSTICE FOR KILEY!
- Tara also deserved better than that teacher guy.
- Loved Grace as well, she reminded me of myself at that age.
- If there’s a season 2 my girl Erin will become my favourite character I know it. She’s not quite the ‘bitchy cheerleader with a secret heart of gold’ character I love, but she was getting there.
- Love Katherine. And George is HOT!
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writingforstraykids · 7 months
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He sounds like an asshole
Pairing: Chan x fem!reader
Word Count: 1290
Summary: Chan has trouble sleeping and searches for comfort in you as you're reading one of your favorite books once again.
Warnings/Tags: fluff, cuddles, mention of sleeping pills
A/N: I hope you like it😊~Moon🌙
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You adjust the blanket covering your feet and glance out of the window as another thunder ripples through the air. The rain hammers against the window and paints its patterns down the glass. Your eyes follow a few drops before you pull yourself back to reality and check the time on your phone. Your boyfriend got home two hours ago, saying something about going to take a nap. Chan looked exhausted, and you know it's because of his busy schedule and clear lack of sleep over those past two weeks. Sometimes, you worry about him when he comes home like that, all pale and whiny, unable to keep his eyes open. You sigh softly and turn the page of your book, continuing to read. Only a few minutes later, you hear him opening the door to your shared bedroom and walking toward you. "You slept alright, love?" you ask, not looking up yet. Chan doesn't answer and stops in front of the sofa. You frown and slowly raise your eyes. The sleeves of his sweater cover his hands almost fully, and once you meet his eyes, your heart sinks. His own are full of tears, some making their way down his cheeks, and his full lips tremble as he exhales sharply. "Hey, what's wrong?" you ask worriedly and put your book aside, pulling your blanket back and patting the spot between your legs. 
"I can't sleep," he presses out, clearly frustrated, and messily wipes his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweater. You gently take his hand and pull him toward you. He lets you and sits down between your legs, resting his head on your chest with a soft sniffle. "I'm so tired, Y/N, but I can't fucking sleep." 
"Oh, Channie, angel," you say softly and wrap your arms around him, soothingly fondling his hair. "Did you take your pills?" 
"Yes," he nods and curls up in your comforting hold. "They're not working." 
"When did you take them?" you ask gently. 
"Half an hour ago," he answers, and you hum softly. 
"You know they need some time to work," you remind him lovingly. 
"I don't have time," he groans. "I should be able to work tomorrow and finish everything. I also need to meet with Min and Felix to discuss the new dance and Hannie needs help with-." 
"Chan," you stop him gently but firmly. "Maybe that's exactly the problem here. You worry too much about what needs to be done instead of letting yourself relax for a moment." 
"So it's my fault now?" he asks, sulking, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. 
"That's not what I meant," you sigh softly and rub his back. "Is there something that might help you relax and support the pills working their magic?" 
Chan cuddles into you and sighs softly. "This helps a little," he says, and you chuckle. "Hey, I mean it," he pouts. 
"You're adorable," you smile and plant a soft kiss on top of his head. He looks up at you and chases your lips, humming softly as you give him what he wants. You can taste his tears on his lips and cup his face, thumbs wiping his cheeks. "You know what my mum used to make me when I couldn't sleep?" 
"Milk with honey?" he asks sweetly, and you gently bop his nose. 
"How does that sound?" you ask, brushing back his loose curls. 
"Lovely, but then you have to get up," he sighs and looks adorably helpless. "And I'll be alone."
You can't help but laugh at that. "Channie, come on," you protest, and he giggles softly, his beautiful dimples appearing. You cup his face and kiss his forehead. "I'll be right back, okay?" 
"Okay," he sighs dramatically with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 
You shake your head and get up, walking over to your kitchen space to prepare it for him. You watch him as he wraps your blanket around his shoulders and stares into the distance, trying to calm his thoughts. You're back with him only a little later, and he sits between your legs, leaning back against you as he sips his milk. You pick up your book again and rest your chin on his head, knowing it would help him feel like he didn't distract you. 
Chan smiles softly and rests his hand on your knee, his thumb painting mindless patterns on it. Having you there with him distracts him from the fact that he can't sleep and gives him some much-needed peace. He starts reading along but soon gives up since he can't follow the plot without knowing the characters or any of the previous scenes. "He sounds like an asshole," he comments after a moment, making you giggle. 
"You think so?" you ask, amused.
"You think so?" he echoes and turns a little to look at you. "You'd kick my ass if I talked to you like that." 
"That's a little violent, but you might have a point," you snort. 
"Of course I do," he snorts back and shakes his head. "I'd hate him." 
"Well, thank God you're not the protagonist," you chuckle. 
"Is she going to fall in love with him?" he asks disgusted. 
"People can change," you remind him. 
Chan grabs the book to look at the title and bites back a groan. "Again?" 
"Yes, again," you chuckle. "Just like you perform the same stuff over and over again and don't get bored." 
"That's something else every time, baby," he protests. 
"Maybe this is too?" you laugh. 
"I doubt that," he frowns and takes another sip of his milk. 
"I've never read this while your insomnia kicked in, and you sat between my legs drinking milk with honey before, though," you think out loud, and he turns to look at you. You can see how ridiculous he thinks you are and have to laugh. 
"You're so stupid sometimes, I love you," he giggles. 
"I love you too," you smirk. 
He huffs softly and sinks back against you, putting his empty mug aside. "Gosh, I really wanna sleep," he mutters softly. 
You shift on the sofa with him, and he gets comfortable on top of you, his legs intertwined with yours. His head rests on your chest, and you gently run your fingers through his hair. "I could read to you, you'll find it so boring it'll make you fall asleep," you suggest, and he giggles. 
"Fine, it's worth a try," he says, knowing that your angelic voice and not boredom will make him sleep if this would work. 
You start reading out loud and subconsciously play with his hair as you do, enjoying the comforting warmth his body spends. "I recall that your hands were on her, but her eyes were on me, Cardan returns."
"Asshole," Chan comments convinced, and makes you laugh. He smiles softly and listens to your voice, which slowly pulls him in. Your steady heartbeat beneath him helps him calm down, and feeling you breathe beneath him makes him adjust his own. He closes his eyes, focusing on you only, and slowly notices the pills kicking in as they should. Combined with the soothing movement of your hand in his hair and your presence, he finally relaxes. 
MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES
You smile to yourself as he grows heavier on you and snuggles up close, almost leaning into your touch. You lean down and lovingly kiss his head. "Night, Channie love." He only manages to mumble something back drowsily, and you know the pills are working now. You continue reading loudly for another while until you're sure he's deep asleep and put the book aside. You smile softly at him clinging to you in his sleep and soothingly rub his back, allowing yourself to rest as well.
do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -
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Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)
@soullostinspaceandtime @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @hyunniebunni @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies
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bangchansgirlsblog · 6 months
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My Biggest Regret
Part two:
**
Fate was on her and Chan's side. She knew it. She felt it and she could taste it. Even if It had been 3 years…
3 years.
The calls were now non existent and the texts were now disappearing. She knew the only way to know if he was okay was through social media so she kept checking all her socials to watch over him.
She had accepted the fact that he was now a busy idol. He was making hits and creating a big name for himself and his group. He was now basically non existent in her life.
Don’t get it wrong, he would try to call her here and there but it was so awkward that she just stopped picking up once and for all. He also saw that they had nothing in common at all so he also stopped calling.
They had grown apart. It was painful but that was reality.
She still visited his parents and his sister once in a while just to check in but it would end up with a lecture about how they are very upset with Chan for not keeping in contact with her but they would eventually get over it by the end of the evening after some tea and cookies.
Hannah on the other hand was so upset and angry at her brother but Y/n couldn't blame her. He had missed every important mile stone in her life (not intentionally Ofcourse) but still how "dare" he be so busy and lie.
Y/n knew she had to be her rock though. She knew she had to step in and take care of her.
"My love, you'll get wrinkles on your forehead if you continue to be upset," Y/n tells the young girl as she slowly helps apply Hannah’s makeup for prom. They were sat in her room on vanity.
"I don't get it! How are you so okay with what he has done?" The younger one whines like usual. To be honest Y/n was a mess inside. She was constantly sad and even though it had been years she still felt really sad and upset. She had lost her bestfriend and she didn't know if she would even be around when he came back.
"Hannah, you should be proud of him and not upset. Look at how much he has accomplished. He has grown so much and made a big difference in the industry. We should just be patient with him and we shall all be back together again." Y/n smiles as she finishes the makeup look. "There you go, so beautiful!" She claps and admires the work she had created.
“Let me see! Let me see!” She squeals and turns. Hannah gasps when she looks into the mirror shocked.
"I love it so much Y/n! Thank you!" She squeals again and held out her phone to take a few selfies.
Y/n loved seeing her happy. She was like her little sister and she since she didn't have siblings of her own she put her everything into Hannah.
"Here let me take a picture! Turn around and say Cheese!" Y/n takes a short video of her beautiful dress and posts it on her instagram. She had a few followers not as many as a normal teenager would but she was satisfied with her small account. It consisted of people she loved only.
"Oh I think my dates here!" Hannah smiles and grabs her purse then Y/n's hand. They all walk down stairs where Chan's father had the camera out.
"Oh my girl! You look beautiful!" Her mum coos and stared at the both of them. Hannah and her date took a few pictures and finally left, Ofcourse after Y/n gave them a long lecture about protection and drinking which left Hannah completely embarrassed.
"Thank you for helping her Y/n, you really have her wrapped around your finger," Chan's mum says while pouring some water for Y/n in a cup.
They were sat on the dining table having some dinner since his dad had insisted.
"Oh it's no worries! I love her like my own little sister," she gives them a genuine smile before grabbing her chopsticks and starting on the meal.
"How is medications going? What has the doctor said?" Chan's dad asks turning the atmosphere all so serious. He always had a soft spot for Y/n ever since his bestfriend (Y/N's mum) pushed her out, he had admired her, loved her and cared for her like his own. He was the only father figure in her life.
"It's okay, just trying to push through everyday. The doctor says that the tumor has decreased but he isn’t sure by how much or if it'll stay like that," Y/n shrugs and continued to eat her ramen. This topic wasn't new for her. She was used to the question. She was used to the usual nagging from both Chan's parents and her mum reminding her to take her medication or to go for her appointments.
She was now used to it all.
"That's good sweetheart. Keep taking care of yourself please. I don’t want you to end up in the hospital again.” He tells her softly almost as if he was scared to bruise her with his words.
“I will uncle-“
“Speaking of that,” Chan’s mum interrupted the small conversation. He groans knowing exactly where the conversation was going and he automatically felt bad for Y/n because they had been through this for the 50th time, “Did you ever tell Chan about it? He keeps asking me about you Y/n and I want you guys to get to talking again. I feel bad for lying to him.”
Y/n let a sigh out. She hadn’t told Chan about when her condition got worse. She hadn’t even told him about her ending up in the hospital for months and she wanted to keep it that way.
“No I haven’t told him yet, I just don’t want to put a lot on his plate plus I’m fine now and out of bed rest,”
“I know sweetheart but-“
“My love! Don’t get involved in their love life, I keep telling you this,” Chan’s dad interrupts his mum. Y/n had always admired and craved their love. They were such a cute couple, such a happy couple.
“I know darling but if they won’t even talk, how will they get married?!” She exclaims causing Y/n to choke. Married?
“Look at what you’re saying now! You’ll chase the poor girl away. Let them be please!”
“Fine, Fine. More dumplings?" She asks dumping a few more dumplings on Y/n’s plate.
**
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itsacautionarytale · 2 months
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Random Mean Girls headcanons im unrelenting about [bway musical & movie musical]
• Karen, very platonically, calls Gretchen “honey”, “sweetie” and “baby”, because she knows that’s what people who love each other call each other. Again, it’s so platonic, but Gretchen reciprocates it.
• Janis’ favourite food is burgers and she loves everything on it - as much sauce and salad as possible.
• Cady is autistic.
• Also Cady hates buffets and this was found out because Janis’ and Damian decided it would be a good idea to help her acclimatise to American food. Cady had a meltdown.
• Gretchen has severe but extremely high functioning anxiety. [This is practically canon lmao]
• Gretchen has notes folders on her phone with everyone’s details. She knows your medical history, darkest secrets, favourite food etc.
• Karen is so sensory seeking. She has no idea about her limits because her introception is terrible. She loves crunchy foods and at parties, drinks far too much because she doesn’t realise it’s too much until it’s too much.
• Regina has a terrible relationship with her mum.
• Aaron is very traumatised by his time with Regina and is so shocked when Cady doesn’t display the behaviours that Regina did.
• Betsy Heron has a special interest in parenting and, post spring-fling, her house becomes The safe space for Cady and her friends. [Betsy is autistic too]
• Damian fucking loves pizza. Easily eats a large pizza himself. Favourite food.
• Cady adores chicken wings. Janis tells her she’ll hate them because they’re so messy, but Cady adores them.
• Cady is straight, Janis is a lesbian, Damian is gay, Regina is an extremely closeted lesbian, Karen is pan, Gretchen is unlabelled, and Aaron is straight. [Damian is also trans].
• Karen has dyslexia and several other undiagnosed learning disabilities / neurodivergencies.
• Cady hates the taste and feeling of alcohol. Still drinks at every single party though.
I know ive focused on some characters more, but these are just the headcanons that I’m so about. The hcs that are my definite, if that makes sense. Feel free to send asks and ask more about different hcs!!! I have so many thoughts
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You Are My Sunshine - Jack the Ripper/Jack Smith x Reader
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"A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant... Taste of death but once." - Jack Smith.
There was no true middleground between social classes within the Victorian era, and in London, people could feel that suffering the most. The rich only got richer, while the poor starved to death. Women were hardly allowed to work any legal job, thus having to retort to prostitution, while children begged on the streets, in the freezing cold and rain, and men worked themselves to death in factories.
Somewhere, in one of the cheap rooms of a brothel, a prostitute gave birth for the first time, to a rather special child; A little baby boy, conceived with so much love, a precious little thing that would take the name of his father - Little baby Jack. Though he would live in great poverty, the only money to provide for him being the little coins his mother would get from her work - He was still happy. Not only did he have his mother's unlimited fountain of love for him, but he could also read the book left behind by his father upon conceiving him; It was a book of Shakespeare's most famous works, and little Jack loved reading them, to the point that he would take all of the more notable quotes to heart.
Precious little thing, so innocent, a glimmer of hope in the bleakest world that London was for him. He would go out daily, in his raggedy clothes, to find something to eat for him mum and him - And Anne too, if she wouldn't drink so much alcohol all the time. Every day, for so long, this child had to endure multiple beatings and degrading insults, all to survive; And he did it all with a smile on his face. All for his loving and caring mother, who chose HIM, of all the others of her children, to give birth to and raise! He was the fifth child she could have had, but she chose HIM! He truly as the luckiest boy!
In the back of a bakery, little Jack would often try to get the throw-away pastries and bread that would soon go stale and needed to be discarded; It was just trash, nobody needed it anymore, did they? Still, the chef was angry with him, and with his large, strong body, he would kick at Jack's small and frail little body with such malice that was inhumane. A monster. "You again?! This rubbish bin is MY restaurant's rubbish bin! Whether it's leftovers or scraps you want from it, you'll have to pay! And if you can't, then don't ever come back, you filthy rat!" poor boy was clutching his stomach from the exorbitant about of pain he was feeling; But it was fine, if he could get some food out of it, it was worth it.
"HALT!" the authoritarian voice of a girl resounded through the back alley, followed by the rhythmic sound of heeled footsteps approaching them. Jack dared look up to see who it was - A beautiful girl, radiating like the Sun, was standing tall and proud. She must be a nobleman, Jack thought with a soft blush, admiring that beautifully embroidered light blue dress, the rich leather boots and that pretty long hair done masterfully in ringlets, accessorised with a lovely bow. "You are a man, an adult of all things, yet you dare pick on a starving child? How pathetic are you?" the little lady scoffed, looking up at the man with disgust. "Why, you...! Who do you think you are?!" the chef was trembling with anger, ready to raise his fist. "I am a noble lady of high society. I should rather say - Who do YOU think you are, raising not only your voice, but your hand at me also? I could have your business in bankruptcy, if I so desired." she played the insufferable rich brat so well, it even surprised her. "Which would be a pity, considering I quite like the food from your restaurant. Alas, I cannot tolerate the chef being abusive towards the less fortunate. Perhaps I should tell the Queen to take away your Royal Warrant for good." "H-Hold on a second, little lady! Surely, we can negotiate a little? This boy is just a beggar! He has to pay if he wants to eat my food!" the man became stunned from the awfully condescending look in her eyes. "If you don't let the starving people eat the throw-aways and scraps, then you are letting the rats and all the vermin group around and infest this place. I could have this place shut by simply telling them I saw a rat in the restaurant - Who do you think they'll believe - You, a middleclass chef? Or me, the young heiress of Duke L/N?" she unfolded her lacey fan, cunningly covering half of her face. "If you offer the discarded food to those in need, however... I might reconsider your position in this tough industry."
At once, the chef ran inside the restaurant, only to soon return with a large box full of food, which he let fall in front of the boy. "There - Is that good enough?" The lady took out a golden coin from her pretty little blue purse, and she flicked it on the ground for the chef to scramble over it like a greedy man. "For now, yes. Keep up the charitable work, Chef." the lady looked away as the chef bowed and rushed inside the restaurant.
When he was finally gone, the lady let out a sigh of relief before snapping her fan close and giggling. She crouched down in front of the boy and smiled brightly, offering him her hand to help him stand up. "I hope this food is going to fill your belly for a while." "Ahh, My Lady, you're too gracious! You needn't bother with a sewer rat like me!" the poor boy didn't even dare look at her. "No, no, I won't have that. It's not your fault you were born under such circumstances. Everyone deserves a chance in life. Unfortunately, only few are born under a lucky star. Without money, privilege and status, there is little one can do to live a comfortable and modest life." she explained as she picked both of his hands in her small, delicate ones, helping him stand up. "Can you carry the food to where you stay?" the boy's beautiful smile and blush made her feel happy. "Yes, I'll be fine. You really... You're really too kind, My Lady. I don't deserve your kindness." suddenly, Jack felt his face being cupped gently, his silver hair being brushed away from his eyes. "I've never seen such pretty hair on a boy before. And your skin is so soft also. You even have heterochromia! See - One of your eyes is the colour of the soul, a calming blue like the azure sky; And the other is the colour of love, a gentle carmine like the heart that pumps blood inside our bodies. You are very unique and special." "I-... I don't know what to say, My Lady. I... I'm really happy... Only mum ever said anything so nice about me." the pink blush gracing his features made the girl giggle sweetly. "What is your name?" the girl asked, patting his hair. "Jack. My name is Jack." Y/N nodded at him. "What a pretty name you have, Jack." she praised. "My parents are waiting for me, so I can't stay around for too long. We are going to see a theater play, you see? They are playing Hamlet. Will I be seeing you around?" "Y-Yes, if you want to see me, I'll be around!" the little boy offered a bright, toothy grin. "Alright. I will be seeing you around, then." she nodded confidently. "Oh, before I forget - If you ever find the whole world going against you, then you pay look for me. My home is a little out of London, on a pretty hill next to the forest. Ask for Lady Y/N L/N. And give them this." she took off her necklace, placing it in his palm. "Well, I suppose you can sell it if you really want to. Anyway, I'll be seeing you around. Take care, Jack."
With a pretty wiggle of her fingers, the little Lady bid her farewell before unfolding the fan and gracefully waltzing out of the alleyway, back to her parents, while the boy could only stare in shock and awe at what just happened. He was left completely mesmerised and in love with Lady Y/N and the wonderful shade that her emotions radiated around her like a Godly aura. He's never seen such a brilliant shade of blue before, he wondered what it could mean.
As Y/N returned to her parents, she told them happily about her encounter with the young boy named Jack, and how pretty he was, even despite being in an unfortunate circumstance. Though her parents knew that the social standards of the noble class dictated who to marry and even fall in love with, they were content seeing such a glowing smile of happiness on their little girl's face. Perhaps this little boy, despite being from the very lowest class, could be a nice friend for her. Her father, most of all, knew how good it was to have street-smart men as his friends, when circumstances dictated a more shrewd plan.
Likewise, Jack ran quickly back to the brothel, showing his mum and Anne the bounty he brought home, telling them in great detail his encounter with the beautiful Missy who saved him from the Chef and threatened him into being charitable with the less fortunate. He even showed off the keepsake necklace she gave him, as a promise of reunion! He was so giddy and excited to see Lady Y/N again, that he wished to go sleep faster and wake up earlier, just so the time would fly faster and meet Lady Y/N already.
As promised, Y/N would take him on carriage rides and go to the park or on flower hills, just talking about random things. He especially enjoyed it when Y/N would bring literature books over and would read to him - On the few occasions that he knew the piece of literature, he would unconsciously find himself reciting the lines at the same time as she read them. It always made them smile so cutely at each other.
With this, Y/N even started baking some pastries and desserts for him, and he loved everything she made for him so much; Though even he has to admit, her famous Apple Pie was his favourite.
On a beautiful sunset, Y/N admitted that her favourite colour was blue - It was usually a colour associated with the emotion of sadness, but Y/N never once believed so. It's such a calming and gentle colour, how can anyone feel sad when seeing it? She simply could not accept such erroneous symbolism. Jack, on the other hand, said his favourite colour is yellow - The colour of happiness, the colour of the bright, warm Sun... And unknown to Y/N, the colour that Mother's love shone.
One day however, things changed; Jack learnt the truth of Mother's love. He experienced the most painful kind of betrayal, hearing your own mother cursing you and wishing you were never born. With tears and snot running in rivers down his face, Jack watched Gold turn to a marvelous purple of Fear as he killed his mother; And the very same purple he witnessed from his supposed father, Jack Smith.
Drenched in crimson and all alone, Jack knew he had to find a reason for living, and the means to do so - He couldn't beg his whole life. He was a gentleman, and he wanted to grow up and look the like also. He took out the necklace from inside his shirt and kissed it. He wondered if Y/N would still accept him, even after she sees him in this state.
Although skeptical, the guards allowed the boy to enter the manor, but was only allowed to meet Y/N's father - A pristine man, tall and with a respectable body, wearing a monocle and a rich suit. He was everything that Jack wanted to become. Upon seeing the boy, the Father asked what happened to him - Jack found himself tearing up, explaining his mum was killed and he ran away in fear. Poor boy, he lost even the little family that he had.
"Would you like to work for us, Jack? I'm sure Y/N would be very happy to see her friend every day." the silky moustache of the gentleman twitched upwards with his smile, and the boy couldn't help but blush deeply, nodding. "I-I would love nothing more, My Lord." Y/N's Father hummed gently, petting his hair before instructing the maids to care for the boy and show him the servants' room. He will be a great gardener's apprentice. Y/N loved flowers dearly.
Though the morning started bright early, Jack was excited to have such a great place to live at and work; He didn't get to see Y/N yet, but he was told the little lady of the manor enjoys reading whilst drinking her afternoon tea, in the flower garden. Excited, Jack, under the supervision of the elderly gardener, cut a few pretty flowers and rushed to where Y/N was enjoying her tea. He extended his hands towards her, handing her the flowers. "Good afternoon, Lady Y/N!" his smile was brighter than the Sun itself, and he looked so much more adorable now, properly cleaned up and wearing fresh clothes. "Jack!" Y/N's calming blue aura turned such a blindingly bright pink of a gentle hue, like the petals of a pink rose, that Jack felt overwhelmed with happiness - He didn't know what that colour meant, but he could easily tell it was a very positive one. She threw her arms around his neck and brought him in a tight hug, kissing his cheek. "I'm so happy to see you! Are you alright? Did something happen?" Jack simply smiled at her. "I'm the happiest I've ever been whenever I'm with you!"
From the proximity, the mother and father smiled, watching the two children interact so purely with each other. It was no farce, they cared for each other deeply. For quite a few years, Jack remained as a servant to Y/N's manor, and with the kindness of her parents, he was taught the same things that Y/N was - Although she was supposed to learn more feminine things, to become a proper Noble Lady that would one day marry and what not - They did indulge in her love for science and wish to become a doctor. It was a sad thought, not being allowed to study Medicine because no University allowed women. It was a sad reality they lived in. It mattered little that their sweet girl was brilliant - They'd much rather accept subpar men than an intelligent woman.
But her parents loved her far too much to ruin her dreams.
Jack grew older though, and he didn't want to leech off of Y/N and her family's kindness, so he decided to brave the world for himself; Y/N supported everything he did. They would send each other letters weekly and Jack would tell her of his new studies and work, until finally, he received his first salary and could afford to invite his pretty lady to a nice cup of tea and some cake at his favourite restaurant.
Now in their early twenties, Jack grew a moustache, though still small, yet stylish enough for a gentleman like him, and he bought some nice clothes for himself; He didn't want to embarrass Y/N when they'd go out.
This time though, Y/N's usual bright aura was a little dimmer; A myriad of colours there, some pretty some less so; That gorgeous soft pink was still there, over her heart, but that brilliant blue was faded. The majority of her spirit was taken over by the colour of deep sadness. "It really is silly, you know? A single woman was able to abuse the loophole in our University system, and they quickly shut that opportunity for the rest of us. Not fair, is it?" she sighed, stirring the tea absent-minded with the honey spoon. "It's their loss. You would have been a wonderful medic. The field needs someone with your brilliance." Jack comforted her in his gentle and refined tone. "Well... I suppose all I can do now is to continue studying as a hobby and see if I live long enough for an opportunity like this." the young man picked her small hand in his own, squeezing it tenderly before placing a small kiss on her fingers. "The world is constantly progressing, My Lady. I am sure, soon enough, such an opportunity will present itself soon. People like you deserve only the best in life." he couldn't help but gaze in awe as that sadness was quickly overpowered by that lovely pink, every time he spoke sweet words to her. Could this emotion be...? Could it, really? "I dearly hope so, Jackie."
And sure enough, it did happen, once the London Royal Free Hospital School of Medicine was the first to accept women to study and practice medicine in their classrooms and hospital words - It became the first School of Medicine for Women. Y/N was the happiest she's ever been, and her aura looked like the most gorgeous Sunset, with the pink of love and the gold of deep happiness, and a blue of pride and content. She was so happy, in fact, that she celebrated with Jack and her parents at one of the most expensive restaurants in London.
Every time they would meet, she was overwhelmingly beautiful, and Jack couldn't contain his love for her any longer. "I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest!" he quoted Shakespeare to her, as they walked through the flower gardens of her home. For once, it was time for her to have her porcelain cheeks all warm and flustered, as they looked at each other, the gentle light of the golden hour caressing them. "I may not have status, nor wealth, but my bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite." Y/N felt breathless as so deeply in love; If only their beautiful love story won't turn the same way as that of Romeo and Juliet. "Oh, Jack. I've loved you since the day I first met you, when we were children. There is no one else other than you that I would wish to spend my life with." and her parents hoped to have Jack as a groom, for there was no one alive that could love and cherish their little girl the way Jack did.
All was well, and Y/N was experiencing pure bliss; Not only was her love life perfect, but her studies were excellent. But with practicing in the hospital, came returning home at late hours into the night, and everyone knew how unsafe the streets of London could be, especially for young women, let alone beautiful and rich like Y/N. Come 1888, a serial killer began terrorizing London, massacring poor women who worked in the sex industry. He wasn't just killing them - He was mutilating them, expertly removing their wombs, and when his sick fantasies were done, he'd discard them on the ground, with their legs open for all to see their shame. By November, already five women were murdered, and for the first time, Jack could see not only the deep Purple Fear taking over his lover's aura, but her unsettling was visible on her face and demeanour also.
"This is horrible, absolutely horrible!" Y/N moaned in distress. "How could one man be so cruel as to torture someone like this - Five someones, no less!" the woman sighed, sipping on her calming tea. Thankfully, Miss Alice, one of their favourite bakery's employee, came over with their apple pie. Jack's reaction was so childlike and pure that Y/N felt a little more at ease. "Jack the Ripper is at it again, huh... How scary." Alice agreed with Y/N. "Present fears are less than horrible imaginings. It's from Macbeth, by William Shakespeare. Monsters created by the human imagination are often scarier than the real ones. If we found out his true identity, Jack the Ripper may turn out not to be that big of a deal, hm?" Jack smiled gently at Alice. "Oh, that makes sense." she nodded, before being distracted by two journalists working on the Jack the Ripper case, on the table nearby, who ran away quickly to continue their work.
From the opposite side of the street, the trio watched as a young lady selling newspapers was shamelessly pushed aside, causing her to fall to the ground, dropping one of the papers in a small puddle of water, ruining half of it. Her distress was great - She would be losing her money, instead of earning some. But Jack went over to her, and smiled tenderly, offering her a coin for the paper, before returning to his coffee. He knew what it was like, starving and needing to do anything to survive - Now that he could afford a better life, he tried to help anyone who deserved, like this Miss Sophie.
"That girl... Her name is Sophie. She recently lost her mother, and because her father is a drunkard who refuses to work hard, she now does all sorts of jobs in order to support her little brother." Y/N couldn't help but look at her with a saddened look. "Is there no way we can help her?" she found herself whispering. "By the way, you're a kind person. You bought the same newspaper as the one you were just reading." Alice smiled proudly at Jack. Jack simply looked down, hiding his smile. "I just felt... Like reading the same newspaper again." he demurely replied. "Oh no, it's getting late. Forgive me, Jack, my classes are starting soon. I will be coming home late tonight, so please don't wait for me." she rushed up on her feet, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. "I hope you sleep well tonight." "I hope you have an easy day at the hospital today, my darling." Jack blushed softly, smiling back and waving her goodbye, watching as she rushed for the nearest carriage. "You are one lucky man, Mr. She's quite the lovely lady." Alice giggled at him. "Yes, I truly am lucky."
That night, Y/N wasn't going to be so lucky one night, when she left the hospital at such a late hour into the night, on a rather chilly night. Y/N kept a shawl over her head, terrified out of her mind and continuing to sing a little tune in her head, a lullaby that her mother always sang her. It never failed to give her some courage, even when she was petrified with fear. So was now, as she rushed down the cobbled alleys of London.
You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You'll never know, dear How much I love you Please don't take My sunshine away
Her heart trembled, repeating that lullaby over and over again - Until she got called by a man's voice. She gulped. "Oi, missy." she could feel his terrifying breath on the back of her neck. "How much?" "H-How much wh-what?" her body was frozen with fear; The man could easily run her down and overpower her if he wanted to. "How much do you sell your filthy whore body for?"
Y/N couldn't even scream for help as the stranger slammed a chloroform napkin over her nose, holding an iron grip on her body. She couldn't even struggle, he was far too strong for her. "Gah, whenever a dirty little slut like you is near me, my whole body gets incredibly itchy." Y/N felt her vision warping and her body growing progressively lax. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I'll help you. I'll set your soul free from that disgusting body of yours, so that you can go to heaven..."
No matter how much she prayed to be rescued by Jack or her parents, her consciousness faded, and she was left a prey to Jack the Ripper. The culprit dragged her to his home, stripping her naked and placing her on a wooden table in his work room. The walls were plastered with tens and tens of perverted pictures of the women he mutilated over the years. The killer was humming a little tune as he prepared his utensils and camera, ready to rip her to shreds so that the world can see her for the whore she truly is. "I will cleanse you from your sins. I will cleanse this whole world, on God's behalf." he grinned wickedly, gazing upon the face of the woman afflicted by a deep sleep. "But you Gods, will give us some faults to make us men." the killer immediately turned to the intruder, threatening him with a knife. "However... From those faults, ultimate tragedy is born. It's rather ironic." Jack hummed softly. "Don't come any closer! Just what the hell are you doing in another person's apartment?!" the journalist turned killer, Luke Evans, shouted at him. "What am I doing? I'm here to bring my soon-to-be wife at home, you see. I feared she might run into danger when returning from the hospital, and I wished to walk her back to safety. Alas, you caused her great distress and even endangered her life. That, I cannot forgive."
Luke simply grinned wickedly at Jack, threatening to kill him - He knows who he truly is, so he must be eliminated. He was pretty good with a knife, no wonder, considering how many people he killed. Jack would be the first man he disposes of - Or so he'd wish.
"The colour of the emotions that this eye can see... They are works of art that only I can create." Jack smiled, pointing at his crimson left eye. "Such magnificent malice." his smile turned into a mad hatter grin, watching the blood dripping from his piano wire after slicing off the journalist's arm clean. As he attempted to run, Jack threw two of his own scalpels into the back of his shins, causing him to topple over on the ground.
Jack watched as the killer slumped on the ground, his back against the wall; And he sat on his lap, cradling his face. "There are two things on earth, more beautiful than anything. One, is the sunset colour of pure love that my darling Y/N has whenever she looks at me..." Jack huffed in amusement. "And the other... It's that moment when all other emotions are overtaken and dyed in the colour of fear." he grinned impishly. "Anger. Envy. Hate. Disdain. Arrogance. All this time I've been looking for a person who had nothing but filthy emotions residing within them - And you were superb. Now let me see it, Jack the Ripper." he placed the tip of a small knife in the middle of his forehead. "Now please try to imagine how this knife penetrates deeply... Into that brain of yours." not Luke's shrieks, nor his sobbing and tears could stop Jack from slowly pushing the blade deep inside his skull, until he was reduced to nothing but a blinding purple of Fear, and then death. "EXCELLENT! WHAT A NICE COLOUR!"
Jack's delight was great, but now that Jack the Ripper was dead, he had to get his darling Y/N out of this hell. He gazed upon her, laying there, on the wooden table, covered by a single filthy sheet - What a disgusting wretch, attempting to soil her, even daring to associate her pureness and innocence with that of a whore - As though those poor women were selling their bodies because they wanted to, not out of need of survival. "My darling, I have failed you. Forgive me." though it felt awful, looking upon her gorgeous body, untouched by any man - He had to dress her back in her pretty clothes and return home. Somewhere on the table though, he found all of Luke's savings, and he grinned. He wrote a quick letter to Miss Sophie, and was ready to make an Anonymous donation.
Jack held Y/N up in his arms like a princess before setting the apartment aflame, along with all of the evidence of the murder... Or the identity of the serial killer. "London bridge is burning down... Burning down, burning down. London bridge is burning down... My Fair Lady." he hummed as he casually walked through the busy streets of London, and towards the manor.
The man felt a bit of stirring in his strong arms, and he smiled; Y/N was awaking. She fluttered her beautiful eyes open, only to squeal and attempt to struggle away.
You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You'll never know, dear How much I love you Please don't take My sunshine away
That lullaby... That voice... "Jack?!" she calmed down as she looked up at his smile. "Wh-What happened?" "I went over to the hospital to walk you home, but by the time I arrived, you were asleep in a chair. Must have been a pretty exhausting night, hm? Don't worry, my sweetling. I got Alice's famous Apple Pie with Cheddar Cheese, and the sweetest tea, just for you. You can sleep after you ate a little." Jack reassured her, speaking in the gentlest voice he could muster. "R-Really? I fell asleep? Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry, you should have woke me up! You didn't have to carry me so long, your arms must be killing you!" the man smiled at her adorable worrying, shaking his head. "A gentleman always takes care of his darling Lady." he hummed proudly. "You're always safe with me." "Oh, Jack." she threw her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face in his shoulder. "I just had the most awful dream. The whole thing with Jack the Ripper must have truly scared me half to death." she was clearly still in distress. Hopefully, for as long as she thinks it was just a dream, she can rest easy. "I dreamt that I was walking home from the hospital, and this guy kidnapped me and tried to kill me. It was awful, so awful." "I kiss thee with a most constant heart." Jack pulled his lady into a sweet kiss, shifting her mind away from such a nightmare. “A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.” "If this is your way of telling me not to worry, then I love it." she giggled so adorably, that Jack could see not a single trace of that fearful purple anywhere. What a success.
And as promised, he returned her home, placing her on her bed and allowing her time to change in her sleeping wear as he brought over that famous apple pie and brewed her tea. Though it was already around afternoon, he was content with just laying in bed next to her, holding her close to his chest and soothing her mind, caressing her hair. She looked so peaceful, sleeping like that. So beautiful, so innocent, glowing a wonderous blue, content and calm.
Come the next afternoon, Jack brought Y/N over to the flower garden, her favourite place; As the Sun began to set, and the sky's colours mimicked Y/N's beautiful emotions, the silver haired man fell on one knee. “I would not wish any companion in the world but you. I do love nothing in the world so well as you - is not that strange? Nay, for love comforteth like sunshine after rain. Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life.” he took out a velvety box, revealing a beautiful ring, golden, with a pink gem, symbolising the gentle colour of the love they shared. "Y/N, my darling, you are my most beloved sunshine, in this bleak, grey world. Will you marry me?" Y/N felt tears streaming down her cheeks as she squealed a loud 'Yes!' and threw herself into his arms. "I love you so much, Jack. There's no one else I'd want to live my life with, but you."
With one true love's kiss, Jack and Y/N sealed their eternal love for each other; Her parents were just as happy for them, completely ignoring the scrutiny and scolding from the other nobles for not marrying their daughter for political reasons. Their wedding was small and intimate, not wanting to involve the whole damn high society and have their perfect moment ruined by the gossips of those jerks.
Life couldn't be better for them; Truly, two souls bound for eternity, in life and above, were to be forever happy...
Though just like the tale of Romeo and Juliet, no love is eternal. Y/N's parents might have allowed them to marry, but life did not allowed them a long life of joy. No matter how much Jack wanted to shield his darling wife from the knowledge of his secret identity, an assassin for the Government, taking down whatever big guy might terrorise the underground... The way he killed Jack the Ripper, the way he took down a cannibal knight who ate children, and a terrorist organisation naming themselves Mother Goose...
Alas, these last ones not only almost killed him by blowing up the bridge he was standing on... But they did the unthinkable. As Jack returned to Y/N's manor one evening, giddy to gift her the pretty fan he found in a new fashion store that opened on the main street, he saw a large fire up the hill. Though horrified, Jack rushed up the hill and to the manor, yelling Y/N's name desperately, but no one answered. He could barely see, his eyes blurred with tears from the stinging smoke and the scared tears. He foolishly burst inside the burning mansion, searching for Y/N and her parents. They were all lying on the ground, dead, in a pool of their own blood. The poor man had to drag their bodies outside, all by himself, though Y/N's he held on, sobbing as he held onto her tightly, his tears raining down on her.
Why? Just, why? Why her? Why them? Y/N and her family were known to be the kindest of the noble families, so why would anyone want them death? It wasn't fair; Why were the most beautiful souls the ones ripped away from existence so cruelly? Why was he not allowed any lasting happiness? What did he do wrong in this life, or before even being born, that he remained so unfortunate, and continued to bring misfortune to everyone he encountered? His mother, his father, Anne, Y/N, even that little lady Sophie from whom he just bought a newspaper and sent some money. None were safe from him.
“When you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.” were his last words to his wife, the last thing he had in her memory being the necklace she gifted him as children.
When he died, or how, none cared, for Mr. Anonymous was no one; He was just a ghost, a phantasm, wandering about aimlessly, barely surviving, all alone in the world, with the only comfort to caress his heart being the criminals he killed, and the perverted satisfaction he got out of seeing that magnificent shade of purple that only the fear overwhelming them could create.
When next he woke up, he was in a gazebo, drinking tea, and a lady named Brunhilde spoke to him. He was to become one of Humanity's fighters in this fight for mankind's survival - Ragnarok, the fight between Gods and Humans. She explained how he can only hurt a God with the aid of Divine Treasure weapons and what not; Though, when asked how to address him, he simply smiled.
Jack the Ripper, the famous Prostitute Killer.
Yeah, that name suited him well enough.
He will be battling in the fourth round against the mighty Heracles, who graciously agreed to transform the arena into a perfect mimicry of London, and with the aid of the little Valkyrie lady, Hlokk, he had every chance to win - If he played his cards right. He only wondered what Y/N might think, if she were to see him under the alias of Jack the Ripper, the man who almost killed her. Fairly speaking, because of his involvement with Mother Goose, he DID end up indirectly causing her death, and for that, he is eternally regretful.
The whole lot of humanity was not only confused, but enraged also - Why would they send the scummiest vermin to ever walk the earth to represent them in a fight? His Godly opponent also was disgusted, seeing that he had to fight not a respectable, honorable warrior, but... A bloodthirsty serial killer who ripped the lives of so many innocent women.
"Jack...!" though he couldn't hear through his fight, someone was shocked to see the love of her life having taken the alias of a disgusting killer, along with such witty tricks which he came up with on the go, constantly lying about his weapon, using piano wires along with countless knives, deceiving the God and so much more. But this Heracles was a resilient powerhouse, and when he expected least, Jack got his precious monocle destroyed. Ahh, this monocle he had was to honour the legacy of his dear father-in-law, what a shame. Now the whole world had to see his crimson eye, and that perverted love for colourful emotions he had.
Y/N only stared at the man before her, surprised to see his true character unfold; In a way, he was a complete other person - But in other ways, he was the same Jack Smith he knew. How confusing. Still, she was going to root and cheer for the man she loved, for her heart would clench in sheer terror whenever he'd get hurt, same as when he climbed up the Big Ben clock, only to make the whole building collapse on the God. What an insanely shrewd scheme, yet it didn't yet defeat Heracles.
Finally, Jack was forced to admit, the true Divine weapons was never any of the things he threw at him, but his own gloves - Practically speaking, the whole arena became a weapon to kill a God. Heracles, through this fight, figured out that his human opponent can, weirdly enough, see the colours of people's emotions - He was so flattered that he blushed, that Jack! "The colours of emotions that I can see are works of art that only I can create!" he declared blissfully. He spoke not only of the beauty that his wife's love for him was, but also, the excellent shade of purple that only sheer fear could generate. "You... Have lost." Heracles declared boldly, calling him out for giving into despair, allowing himself to succumb to the hedonistic pleasures of killing. For the first time, Jack could see such a pure colour of a remarkable Gold, like the Sun. Heracles loved humans so much, even despite their flaws and foolishness. He only ever wanted to bring them on the right path, to save them. He loved humans with all his heart.
This emotion... This sunset of colours... Jack never even dreamt that he would see it again! The colour of his darling Y/N! Right in front of him, in the guise of his opponent! "Jack the Ripper - I will save you from your suffering!" with such a bold statement, Heracles called forth the Hounds of Hades; High gamble, high risk, high reward - Though no matter how sneaky Jack was, not even he was safe from the God's mighty hits, and he received a powerful punch to the face. He tried to run away, using the grappling hook, but mid-jump he got punched away by the God, and he fell to the ground, impaling his torso into the metal fence underneath.
"JACK!" his pain was unbearable, but her had to fight through the agony - With a groan, he managed to rip away the metal bar from his body, panting in exhaustion. "JACK, DON'T GIVE UP! YOU CAN DO IT!" what a familiar voice - Was he hallucinating? It couldn't be, could it? His sweet Y/N couldn't be there, watching him die for her, can she? She should see him in such a state, nor should she witness the atrocious trickery he was capable of, bringing down the whole damn building to crush the God.
Heracles' colour remained the same through all this, and though it amused Jack, his body burnt with agony. "Ahh, forgive me - I just missed seeing this colour so much! The colour of true love! I missed it so much since my wife died!" he grinned, using his own blood to paint it even wider. "Forgive me, but I'm going to change your colour!" "Just you try! Just you try to change my colour!" Heracles provoked him. "Yes... Let us create the ultimate finale!" Jack theatrically called out; They engaged in a ferocious hand to hand combat, and though Heracles was missing the arm that Jack cut off, he was doing just fine punching away at the human's frail body, sending him flying away, rolling pitifully onto the ground.
"JACK, GET UP! DON'T GIVE UP! YOU CAN DO IT!" is that truly Y/N? She was the only person that would ever cheer on him, right? If she was there, he had to fight. He had to win. From his blind spot, Jack created a diversion, using the pole he was impaled with to hit away at the God's face - He got roughly punched to the ground, and he wasn't moving. Damn, that was really painful.
"We should have never entrusted humanity on that scum of the earth." one of the humans in the stands spat. "I don't see YOU fighting for mankind!" Y/N hissed at him. A woman next to her, drinking heavily from a large bottle, also seemed to sneer at them. "Why don't you go and fight the Gods, then? Think you can do any better?" she held a worried look on her face. "That boy went to fight them, all on his own." "Miss, do you know Jack?" Y/N looked at her with wonder. Anne nodded, looking at him with pity. "Yes. He was a doomed child, birthed at my brothel by one of the prostitutes there. The only reason she didn't abort him like the others was a silly promise with some script-writer named Jack Smith who promised to marry her one day. Silly woman, falling prey to nonsense promises from lecherous men." Y/N stared in shock at the worried woman, though now, some things were beginning to make some sense. "He was the one who killed his parents, didn't he?" Anne nodded slowly. "But he's not Jack the Ripper, I can reassure you of that!" Y/N declared boldly. "I know this because my parents took him in, and we grew up together. We even married at some point. And when Jack the Ripper was at large..." Y/N gulped, remembering that awful nightmare. It was definitely a reality. "It was our Jack who saved me from the real Jack the Ripper." she spoke softly. "It doesn't matter if Jack never really had a real name, or if he just wanted to take the piss out of people by invoking a serial killer's name as an alias. I know my husband, and he'd never hurt any innocent person! My husband has a good heart, and he's the sweetest man in the world! I have faith in him, so Lady, please, cheer on him with me." Anne stared at the younger one with deep shock, only to end up grinning and pulling her into her side. "What a lucky boy, finding a catch like you. I'm sure our little boy was truly happy with you."
With both Anne and Y/N calling out his name, cheering on him, Jack was able to smile, dragging himself up on his feet. "London Bridge is broken down. Broken down, broken down... My fair lady..." he hummed weakly, looking up at the night sky. With difficulty, he managed to drag himself in front of the God again, reaching to attack with his metal pole, only to get punched down to the ground. Finally, the opportunity arose, and Jack, with his hands covered in his own blood, he was able to use his own crimson life essence to impale his hands into the God's body, bringing forth his death. "Dear... God... That is the name of this technique." Jack smiled weakly. "I dedicated it to you." "You've been very impressive throughout this whole fight." Heracles' praise shocked the human. "What is the colour of my heart now? Has it changed?" Jack smiled dearly. "No. I have lost." the God's colour was truly magnificent, even in his last moments. "I will never change. Don't forget it. At all times I..." Heracles embraced Jack. "Will love humans." "O God, what a truly stubborn person you are." Jack's voice was filled with love as he watched the smiling God shattering before his eyes. "That was a fantastic fight. I'm sorry I shouted at you." Heracles was no more.
With Jack the Ripper being declared the winner of the fourth match, the little Valkyrie lady returned to her humanoid body. Though she remained a little guarded around him, with their souls bound, she now understood him better... But Jack had no better understanding of the emotions he was feeling after killing Heracles. "You can't even show sadness at such a sad time, can you? You really are a pitiable person." she declared, only to realise she was drenched in blood and desperately needed a shower. As she flew away, she warned him to rush to the infirmary, his injuries were bad enough.
With every step he took towards the exit of the arena, and even when he struggled to pick his hat on the ground, he could only think of the only two people who ever truly loved him, who ever truly cared for him at all. His mother's love was fake, he hated that pretended colour - But Y/N, Heracles... Never before has he met anyone as genuine as them. "If I could have any wish granted... I would wish to see you two again." he fell on his knees, his body failing him from the arduous fight he just had, though as he tried to stand up, he was hit in the head with a rock, making him bleed. Not only the Gods, but the humans also, were throwing rocks at him, cursing him for winning, for killing their beloved Heracles.
What appears beautiful, is filth, someone said.
"Hang in there, Jack!" out of nowhere, half of his wish came true, as he watched the silhouette of his most beloved person running at him. She rushed to throw her arms around him, but he couldn't hold back the groan of agony from his sustained injuries. "Damn, I'm so stupid - Forgive me, I forgot about your wounds. Come on, let's get you treated. I heard the doctors here can do magic that no human can, when it comes to healing." she put his arm around her shoulder, helping him walk. As more rocks were flung their way, Y/N's mother, father, and even Anne came over to defend them, opening parasols. "Silly man. Taking on the alias of one of the most hated men in the world. What was in your head, anyway?" she scolded him lightly. "Ahh, no matter, I'm just so happy you're alive." she leaned up to kiss his cheek. "My dear sunshine." Jack smiled, allowing himself to be taken to the infirmary. The medics took care of him, and when he was bandaged up and ready to go, he left the hospital wing. Y/N was waiting right outside, all alone.
With no words spoken, Y/N guided him to the kitchen where she brewed some tea for him. It was just like old times, when they'd have afternoon tea together. How nostalgic. "Aren't you mad at me for lying to you? Or for getting you killed?" "Nope." she popped casually. "For starters, I have no memory of the time of my death, so that matters naught to me. Even if through some circumstances, I was implicated and killed because of your envolvement in something, it's null. Secondly - I know the man I married. I know you tried to make me believe being kidnapped by Jack the Ripper was just a nightmare. And I know your real name isn't even Jack Smith." she smiled at his flabbergast expression. "But none of that matters to me. I fell in love with you, not any identity you chose to use at each moment of your life." "I don't deserve your love and kindness." Jack's comment only made her scoff at him. "This sounds like our first conversation, as children. Let's not have a repeat of that." she huffed. "Anyway, I was wondering - What colours do I have? And do you like them?" Jack smiled, a soft blush covering his cheeks as he held Y/N's hands, kissing them. "My darling, though you are my shining sunshine, the colours of your pure care for me burn bright like the sunset sky, and your gentle love is as delicate as the gem of your ring."
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kekaki-cupcakes · 29 days
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Heyyy can you please write something for Nico x male reader where Nico has seen reader around camp and reader is friendly and always laughing and talking with everyone. And Nico develops a crush on reader and eventually he decides to confess to reader when he sees them in the woods. Fluffy mainly but like a little spicey at the end if u do that stuff? :)
hey there bestie, let's pretend it hasn't been two months. this fic is also for @golden-boy-muda 's request for nico x transmasc reader <3
I couldn't find an idea in my empty ol head for this request but then I was looking for old oil painting wallpapers for my phone and now you have this incredibly sappy 3.2k of art references [I advise you keep another tab open for cross-referencing if you want the fUlL eXpErIeNcE]
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Oil on Canvas--- Nico di Angelo x transmasc reader [3.2k] »»————- ★ ————-««
Nico definitely isn’t a stalker, he understands boundaries [once Jason explains them to him, of course], but he might have a bit of a staring problem. 
Sometimes he’s just eating gluten free waffles with Hazel in the dining pavilion and ends up watching you shove your siblings around and plait your little sister's hair so it doesn’t get in her face when she goes Pegasus riding.
He spooned some blueberries onto his plate. 
It’s not his fault.
It’s yours, if anything. What is he supposed to do apart from feel like there’s moths beneath his ribcage when you pose, your nose scrunched, up for photos with Drew’s polaroid camera that’s covered with inappropriate stickers? 
Hazel elbowed him meaningfully in the side when he couldn’t help but grin because Holy Hades, a single person shouldn’t be able to look that much like the painting Ophelia [by friedrich heyser, to be specific], just because they wore a green camp shirt and a pearl necklace. 
Maybe it was his fault that he was comparing you to beautiful paintings. 
He scooped the blueberries onto his half eaten waffle and reached for the maple syrup Hazel had finished drowning her breakfast in. 
The Stoll brother’s mortal mum had sent a stack of paintings from art galleries all over the world last Christmas, and they’d let him pick out a few of the older more poetic ones that didn’t have enough blood and guts for their taste. 
Now the oil paintings of lakes and birds and crying angels and… mainly cats, actually, hung around the dark walled Cabin he slept in. 
Your laugh when you threw strawberries at Kayla and Austin while they worked in the infirmary reminded him of Angel [carl von marr, of course] and he felt like Chat a difficult catch [charles van den eycken] when you walked right past him without even glancing back.
So he’d made peace with watching from afar how you would forget daily to put sunscreen on but somehow always remembered to wear this pair of white crocheted gloves that looked like cat paws. 
On a completely irrelevant note, Nico was learning to crochet. 
Hazel made eye contact with him again when he looked from you to her, and he plugged his ears and glared before she started kicking him in the shins and begging him to pluck up the courage to walk over and even just make eye contact. 
Not that he didn’t want to. 
He may have lined up in his catalog of daydreams, this scenario where you both went down to the beach. Any beach, really. You’d collect shells and eat popcorn and grapes and lemonade and squish sand between your toes and pick up crabs with him. 
PROMENADE ON THE BEACH [Charles Atamian, obviously].
There was another scenario where he’d take you to the farmers market. It had the biggest bouquets of flowers, and rows upon rows of fruits and vegetables and incense and beaded jewelry. 
When he was laying in bed underneath the fluffy zebra patterned duvets that Piper forced him to use, mainly because they matched the dark reds of the cushions and browns of the bookshelves and antique lamps in the cabin so well, you were walking down the rows of little stores with him.
You were holding his hand with those soft cat paw gloves and you liked the feel of his rings [he’d read that people liked rings in a book, somewhere] and you’d filled the Studio Ghibli tote bag you had with berries. 
He’d watched most of the movies after he saw your bag. He liked Arriety the best. 
Clarisse stomped past the Hades table, leaving bloody footprints no one asked about, and smacked him in the back of his head. Nico went back to eating his waffles and daydreaming about your smile. 
In the farmers market you would sniff candles and never buy them because Hazel had far too many for all of her spells and the such that he would never run out. And what was Hazel’s was his and what was his was hers, meaning that what was Hazel’s was yours. 
Because Nico would give everything he owned, even his favorite jacket, for you to look his way. 
And he would buy you flowers, whichever were your favorite. 
Maybe the ones from the painting Hazel forced him to take because ‘you can’t just not hang a painting that literally is you, Neeks’. 
Italian Girl with Flowers. Joaquin Sorolla. 1886. 
He didn’t see the resemblance.
But it didn’t really matter, because he’d get to watch you looking at all the cool things for sale and then he’d take you to the best gelato he’d found so far [he was making a list] or just use the shadows, and take you to a proper gelato shop. Whatever you wanted to do, really.
Nico blinked. He huffed, mainly at himself, and stabbed his waffle. It fell apart on the fork.
“Why’re you angry?”
He looked up from his plate, to Hazel. She was sitting opposite him with a mustache made of orange juice. “...I’m not.”
“You’re not supposed to be pushing down your emotions, remember?” she said sternly, and started picking the green bits off a strawberry. She was eating as many berries as she could, since she wasn’t allowed lollies anymore. The perks of braces. 
Nico looked away. “I’m fine.”
“You’re thinking about the cat glove girl, aren’t you?” she asked with a smirk.
“Cat glove boy, remember?” he muttered, and took a bite of his waffle, wiping squished blueberries off his chin.
Hazel’s golden eyes widened, “Oh yeah. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” he said, and was grateful for the excuse to peek your way. You were eating toast. Very pretty-ily. He felt his face heat up.
Hazel perked up, a mischievous grin he didn’t appreciate on her face. “Okay! I’ll go apologize to your boyfriend then-”
Nico stared at her. Why was she like this? She actually went to stand up, and then he yanked her sleeve, pulling her back down to the table. “No! Don’t just… you can’t… stop!”
“You didn’t deny that he’s your boyfriend,” Jason chuckled, sitting down next to Hazel. 
“I hate you all,” Nico said. 
It was torture. 
He felt like Sleepy time potion [Vanessa Stockhard], stuck in the middle of your loveliness, unable to do anything except stare and hope that his face wasn’t too as red as the mushroom he was sitting on. 
In the painting. 
Not in real life. 
Obviously. 
»»————- ★ ————-««
Nico stared down at the hat in his lap.
He’d done it. He’d actually finished one of the hundreds of projects he’d started in Piper’s efforts to find him a hobby that wasn’t sitting on the fences of cemeteries or standing in line at Mcdonalds. 
He had lots of other hobbies, he just… couldn’t come up with them when she was arguing with him. 
So they’d gone through writing, painting, records, sleeping, which he excelled in, and then crocheting. None had lasted very long, but he may have had an idea half way through trying to stab Piper with the crocheting stick.
And now he had a white bucket hat with cat ears.
He threw it to the end of his bed, and hid underneath his duvet. Fuck. 
Repose. Malcolm Liepke. 1953. 
What on Olympus was he supposed to do about the way he wanted to hold you so badly he felt like throwing up and tearing his hair out?
He lay underneath in the pocket of stuffy darkness for a moment, before sitting up, untangling his blankets and teddies from him, and then standing. He may have just had the greatest idea anyone had ever thought of before.
Hazel was still in the shower, singing, most likely, so he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack that was actually just a skeleton, and then stomped out of his cabin, the stupid hat in his fist.
His heart was beating wildly. Stupid heart. 
The Wedding Dress. Fred Ellwell. 1911.
He rubbed his face and groaned at the sky. The stars were just peeking out, but it was still pink and yellow, and the sun hadn’t dipped yet. It was hidden by the trees he was trudging through, though. 
Fuck.
His chest was hurting. 
Nico scrunched up the stupid perfect crocheted hat that just had to stupidly perfectly match your stupid perfect cat gloves because Nico was stupidly perfectly obsessed with you. 
You, who was stupidly perfect.
Fuck. 
Psyche Weeping. Kinuko Y Craft. 1995.
He trod on twigs that broke underneath his boots and weaved through the tree’s that slowly became more and more laden with hanging pendants and wind chimes and ruins carved into the bark.
He stepped over a thin stream. A frog croaked at him like it was dying. As if it could ever feel like it was dying. As if it could ever fall in love.
Nico groaned at the sky again. 
“Just let it all out.”
He turned, and glared. “Do you mind?”
“Yes, actually,” Lou Ellen said, raising a purple eyebrow. It matched the undersides of her curly hair. She pointed to the cabin concealed in shadows and moss and stones behind her. “This is my house. And you are yelling very loudly.”
“I’m not yelling,” Nico argued. “I’m groaning.”
She stared at him for a second. She rolled her eyes. “Just come in, what do you need?”
“I need a spell. Or a charm. Or hex,” Nico said, following her through the wooden double doors. A wind chime tinkled even though the air was still. There were a few bunks lined up against the wall to one side. “Or a magic thing. I don’t care which one.” 
The rest of the cabin was filled with small coffin shaped pet beds and empty pink soda cans and voodoo dolls hanging from the roof and rugs with cats wearing strawberry hats on the fluffy material and misty crystal balls. 
Lou Ellen lent back on a desk stacked high with papers and paperweights that were actually jars filled with things. “Okay. I have three rules. I don’t kill people, and I don’t make people fall in love.”
“...And?”
“I’ll break both if it’ll be fun?”
Nico frowned. “No. Aren’t you supposed to say you won’t bring people back from the dead? That’s always the third rule.”
She squinted at him. “Uh…no. I send those people to you.” 
Nico squinted back at her, sticking his tongue out. He fiddled with the stupid perfect hat and looked around. There was just more creepy things and stuffed animals. “Whatever. I need your help.”
“With what?”
“I need you to… like,” Nico started. He sighed. He looked away. 
This was awful. 
He was not about to admit that he might be in love, even if it was to reverse the feelings in the first place with whatever heart ripping out brain altering magic was necessary. 
The Apollo cabin would find out through the witch in less than thirty seconds. He would never live it down. 
Nico groaned again. “Oh for fucks sake, do you need me to fic your voicebox or something?” Lou Ellen hissed. 
Nico glared at her. He groaned again, and then whirled around and stomped out of the weird mossy mushroom cabin. “Nevermind!”
“Fine! Have it your way!...weird little emo.”
Nico glared at the frog croaking at him, and kept walking through the forest. 
He followed the little stream through the woods until he could hear wind chimes or Taylor Swift’s latest album anymore. 
The little stream widened into a proper stream, filled with a lot more frogs. Why were there so many frogs? He nearly stood on a green one leaping across the path. Stupid frog.
Nico stuffed his hands into his pockets, along with the hat. He was tempted to just toss it into the river. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with all of the silly feelings that felt like the biggest things in the world to him and his silly head full of thoughts about your lips.
Maybe the frogs could use the hat as a home.
“Here froggie… Come here… I said, come here... No I am not taking a tone with you!” 
Nico froze. 
Fuck. He took a deep breath, probably too loudly. He glanced to the side. 
Of course you were catching frogs, knee deep in a river.
You looked over, making eye contact, and Nico realized the moths underneath his ribcage were turning into bats. You squinted at him, hands on your hips, while water swirled around and leaves drifted from the trees above. A bucket was wedged between two rocks next to you.
A frog jumped out of it and landed near your leg, on a lillypad. 
“Look Albert,” you said, turning to the frog. “It’s a little Victorian ghost.”
“...I’m Italian,” Nico said quietly. He stared at you. He couldn’t help it. Wow. Fuck. Leo was right. He really was pathetic. “And I’m not a ghost.”
“Okay, Victorian ghost.” 
Nico stared at you. Fuck.
After that exchange, he should be able to hate you. Right? Right. He now resented you, and the moths turned bats would stop clawing at his chest and he would go back to having a normal life. 
Right?
Wrong.
You squinted at Nico, and then slowly turned to Albert. “I think the cute Victorian ghost is having a stroke.”
Nico blinked once, gulped, and then marched forward through the cold water and frogs, his shoes squelching loudly. Gods. This was so embarrassing. But you thought he was cute, even if you also thought he was a dead english boy, so he would be content with dying from embarrassment. 
He shoved the stupid perfect hat into your stupid perfect hands.
And then left in about 0.3 seconds. 
»»————- ★ ————-««
You stared down at your pancakes. Why were they so gray looking? Had someone poisoned them? You figured that it would be a pretty good way to die, and tipped extra maple syrup onto them before you dug in. 
To counterbalance the poison, of course.
You scratched at the mosquito bite underneath the strap of your binder. It had flowers embroidered into it. Your binder. Not the mosquito bite.
One of your siblings across from you kicked at your shin, probably on purpose, but you continued to eat your odd tasting pancakes and picked blueberry grit off your white cat paw gloves. They were your favorite gloves. 
They also matched your new hat. The new hat that the cute Victorian but actually Italian ghost boy had given you before he teleported away with whatever dark magic he had stored in all that goth-ness.
You tossed a blueberry at Clarisse when she walked past and tried to bash you over the head. 
She wasn’t allowed to ruin your new hat.
You turned to see her flicking the blueberry over at someone else, and your eyes flicked past that too. Now way. You stood up, but you’d lost sight of the mess of dark hair when the Hermes cabin barrelled past.
You clambered onto your seat and stood up there. “Oi! Victorian ghost hat boy!”
The dining pavilion went quiet pretty quickly, and everyone turned to the cute guy with a skeleton hoodie and wide eyes. He pointed at himself when you pointed at him, and then went pink. 
Clarisse stuck her arm out so you didn’t faceplant when you jumped down from your seat, and you held onto your new hat as you traipsed across the cracked floor. 
You’d never figured out how that crack had got there. But there were bigger mysteries. 
Like this cute goth. 
His face just pinker when you grabbed his sleeve and tried to tug him out of the entire camp’s curious eyes. A dark skinned girl with a lot of butterfly clips and a Steven Universe t-shirt sent a thumbs up in your direction. 
It was only when you were standing by the low burning fire pit in a patch of daisies did you realize you hadn’t really planned far enough ahead. 
You took off the cat-ear hat and looked down at it. “...Uhm…”
“Sorry,” the goth said quickly, and when you made eye contact he looked away even quicker. “It’s creepy. Boundaries and stuff, I just… saw your gloves.” 
“It’s not creepy,” you argued, putting the hat back on with a grin. He was really cute when he blushed. “I mean, I don’t even know your name, and I have no idea who you are but your eyeliner is really really great and… Holy Hades if you smile like that again can I… please kiss you?”
The goth with no name stared at you, and then nodded about ten times too many. “Yes please. But, uh.. If you’re gonna kiss me, please, maybe don’t get my dad involved.”
“...Wut?”
»»————- ★ ————-««
Nico could feel his cheeks growing hotter.
Not because of the sun, specifically, but it was hot and bright in the woods. He’d worn sunscreen though. And forced you to put it on too, once he’d found watermelon scented sunscreen, because you refused to smell gross no matter how sunburnt you would get anyways. 
His face was hot and red because of you. 
You, who was stupidly perfect and also possibly kind of Nico’s stupidly perfect boyfriend. 
“Psst, Victorian ghost boy,” you said with a sing-song voice, quietly, and waved your hand in front of his eyes with your pink, blue, and white painted nails. He blinked. You smiled. “You zoned out again.”
“Sorry,” Nico said, and pulled a daisy out of the ground. He handed it over. “I was thinking about you.”
He hadn’t realized the effect that saying that would have on you, but it was worth it when you opened and closed your mouth like one of the frogs you kept as pets. 
“I.. well, what were you thinking about?”
Nico had played his cards right. He smirked, and you shuffled forwards on the checked picnic blanket Piper had stolen from Drew, who’d probably nicked it from poor unsuspecting Demeter or Iris kid. You knocked over the basket of strawberries too, and then took your bucket hat off and stuffed it in your lap with a grin.
He tilted his head down. You were both following a very well rehearsed script. “...Kissing you?”
You launched yourself forwards then with a laugh, your cat-paw gloved hands landing on either side of his waist and probably squishing some of those strawberries at the same time. 
The sun reflected in your eyes and Nico held the sides of your face as he pressed his lips to yours. 
You kissed back, and once you both stopped smiling widely, you could kiss back. 
Properly. 
He scratched his fingernails, the ones you’d painted rainbow that afternoon after catching more frogs and complaining about sunscreen, along your jaw when you bit down on his bottom lip.
Not as a complaint, certainly not, and you knew that too because you just sat back on your knees between Nico’s lap and tilted your head to fit deeper against Nico’s bruised lips. 
The ones that hadn’t had a single day off since you jumped up in the middle of breakfast with your gluten free waffles you hadn’t realized were gluten free until he had explained it to you later. 
It was intensely crazily unbearably romantic but it also meant whatever cold one of you managed to catch, the other would come down with only minutes later. 
And Nico felt like that smug little cat from Julie Manet’s Auguste Renoir.  
»»————- ★ ————-««
51 notes · View notes
perplexingluciddreams · 3 months
Text
An average day in my life
I want to make a post about an average day in my life, with higher support needs nonverbal autism (with continued late regression), severe ME/CFS, low mobility, hypotonia, and other health things. I need a lot of help with most things, and due to my conditions my everyday life probably looks quite different than many people's.
I tried to write this several times. I started with AAC, but I couldn’t see what I just wrote, so I got lost and jumped about too much. This time I made myself some questions to answer, so I can still use AAC to help with the words, but not get so mixed up. Some of this is written with AAC, some is typed.
Where do I spend most of my time? How do I spend most of my time?
I spend the large majority of my time in my bedroom, and the most of that time is spent in bed.
In bed, the things I do is: watch DVDs or other things on laptop, edit AAC, practice/write with AAC, play games on phone, listen to music.
When I am not in bed, I am listening to loud music in my swing! Best way of regulation for me, keeps me calm.
What does my bedroom look like, how do I have things set up?
I sit up in bed with a big wedge pillow and two normal pillows behind me. I usually have my laptop, iPad, AAC device, DVDs and DVD player, and fidget toys (dummy, chewy, tangle) on the bed with me. I also have an overbed table which always has my glasses and case and juice bottle on it. I change around what is on the table depending on what I am doing at that time.
My LED lights in bedroom is usually on orange or yellow colour, with lights fairly dim. The curtains and blackout blind is always closed.
I have a fan and book light always next to my bed. I have a weighted blanket as my duvet, with five other varying types of blankets on top of it.
What are the other activities I do?
I have some other activities I occasionally do with help and prompts. Sometimes I go downstairs (with stairlift) to watch TV and/or do walking (physiotherapy, walking back and forth with or without AFO braces). I also do walking upstairs, because getting downstairs is a real challenge.
I rarely remember that I have options other than the things I see in front of me, so my parents have to give me choices.
Occasionally Mum ask me if I want to play cards, or do something else not normally do. It depends on how I feel and how loud my brain is, but sometimes I say yes.
What are the few things I can do independently on a daily basis?
I can put shoes and socks on, and take off, by myself! Only with same pair of stretchy shoes, just pull on. I do this several times a day because I wear shoes in swing, but not in bed. So it is a strong motor path.
I can change my hoodie/take it on and off by myself.
I can go between my bed and swing by myself, no prompt. I can walk to go to the toilet and change nappy (diaper) by myself.
I can brush my teeth as long as my toothbrush and toothpaste is brought to me. Sometimes I also need a reminder, or I forget. I am more likely to forget in the evening. I remember better in the morning because I don’t like the taste of my own mouth.
I can drink from my juice bottle and feed myself.
I can put DVDs in and out of DVD player and plug it into laptop. I can choose what I want to watch on a few streaming services. I can navigate a few social media apps, and can even post/message on a couple.
I can use the two different remotes to control my LED lights and sensory light projector.
What is my main struggles and difficulties in an average day?
I can't do much without prompts so these two things (bed and swing) is basically all I can do on my own (I can also go to the toilet without a prompt most of the time, but sometimes I get stuck). I struggle to initiate tasks and transition between tasks. I also can only make my body go on strong motor paths (movement sequences that I do over and over that is strong in my muscle memory), and there is only space in my brain capacity for a small amount of these motor paths at a time. Learning a new motor path and making it strong can make me lose a previous motor path (usually whichever is weakest at that time). This is very limiting.
Even with the pillows I have, it is not enough support. My body is too weak and floppy. My posture is bad and I slide/slump down so I am closer to a lying down position than sitting. I am always in a lot of pain, so I shift around a lot trying to get comfy, but it is never quite right. This is even more for when I sit in swing (or anywhere else), there is next-to-none support there.
If I could, I would be in my swing all the time! But unfortunately I have very low energy due to ME/CFS so a lot of rest is necessary. I find this hard because I need to stim and regulate constantly.
It is necessary that I spend much time alone in my room. If I didn’t, the smallest things would send me into immediate shutdown or meltdown. I can’t be around people much at all, even voices noises is too much. Usually I am only around people for the time when they help me with something, or bring me something.
When I do be around people, even with AAC it is very very difficult for me to communicate - I can do a handful of simple signs but anything more complex is so hard to get out that it usually has to happen when I am on my own in my room (like when I write a post like this). I am sad that I can’t have important or deep conversations with a person in the same room. Most of the important things I communicate to Mum is through Tumblr or WhatsApp.
I am oversensitive to so many things because of sensory issues. I am always dysregulated and I spend so much time trying to keep myself calm with swinging, with out making my health worse.
Often I am much too tired and sore to go downstairs so I am stuck in my bedroom most of the time.
I don't feel many body signals, like my bladder. When I don’t feel the signals at all (or not until too late), combined with getting stuck and not able to initiate go to toilet fast enough, I have accidents. This used to be something I could just about keep on top of, but with regression I no longer can manage it, so I have to wear nappies (diapers). This also adds another task (change nappy) that I have to use my limited brain capacity to learn and hold onto.
I am so fatigued and in pain from doing small things, and my body response to fatigue is often a big trigger for many sensory issues. This often becomes a downward spiral of fatigue response -> sensory bad -> big stim to calm down -> stim makes fatigue worse -> more body fatigue response, etc.
What is my morning routine like?
The first thing that happens in the morning (approximately 9am) is Mum or Dad comes to my bedroom with breakfast and medication. They help prop me up in bed with a big wedge pillow, and two normal pillow behind me. They give me my headphones (I wear almost all day, every day) and help put all my things around me on the bed. They also give me my toothbrush and toothpaste. In the mornings I can’t communicate much at all (only occasionally a few signs), can’t look at another person or do anything that would overwhelm me even a wee bit. It would cause immediate shutdown or meltdown. Shutdown is more likely for the morning time.
What is my mealtime routine like?
Mum or Dad (or very occasionally sister) brings me my food, and if it is a messy food then I put a tea towel over my chest so I don’t get covered in food. I eat while watching something usually, because I need the distraction to not get so stuck. Every time I get new meal or snack brought upstairs to me, I get a fresh bottle of juice also. The bottle is approximately 450ml, and I have 3 meals plus 2 snacks each day. I also get a bottle of water (not juice) brought up with evening meds, so I don’t get sugar on my teeth after I brush them.
I eat the same snacks at the same times every day. I have the same exact breakfast every day, and it has barely changed since I was quite young. I have two lunches, it is the same except for sandwich filling - I eat one for weekdays, one for weekends. Dinner varies, but there is still a predictable amount of choices, and often I eat the same dinner for the same day of the week. Mum sometimes tells me what is for dinner, if it will be different than the usual dinner for that day of the week, or if I ask. But I usually forget by dinner time anyway! 🤷🏻‍♂️
What is my bath time routine like?
With bath, Mum always helps. I need a lot of prompts. I get confused and lost with all the steps. But I have gotten better with practice, and each step have a stronger motor path now. I need Mum to tell me what part comes next.
I use a bath lift to get in and out of the bath.
I can do the physical washing part mostly on my own, sometimes I ask for help with my back. Mum gives verbal prompts and puts the right soap/shampoo in my hand or on washcloth.
Sometimes even with prompts, my brain confuses the steps or the motor paths, and my body does the wrong thing. This happens more recently, because when there is a complex sequence of separate (at least it is stored separately in my brain) motor paths, I can go into “loops” of do same thing over and over. Or my wires get crossed and I simply do the wrong movements.
I can also mostly dry myself (I sit on toilet seat to do it), but Mum always does my back. I can’t dress myself, so once I put on nappy by myself, Mum puts my top on. Then I walk to bedroom and Mum puts my trousers on while I sit on the edge of my bed (it is a better height that sitting on the toilet seat). Then Mum opens deodorant and clicks it up, I put it on myself.
What is my evening/bedtime routine like?
I have poor sleep, usually, and a really weird sleep schedule! My parents go to bed at approximately 10pm (sometimes Mum a bit earlier), and Dad always comes in to tell me goodnight. But I am awake much much after that (usually between 1-3am is when I finally go to bed for sleep). Sometimes I still swing when my parents is in bed, but I try not to swing too late because it can click and make noises.
I stay up and watch things, or play games on phone and listen to music. I often get stuck and cannot transition to go to bed, so I force myself awake for long after I could probably already go to bed.
When I finally manage to force myself to do the bedtime routine (or when my body is so tired it force me), I have to move all the things off the bed (some go on overbed table, some go to charge on the other side of the room). I also then change hoodie from day hoodie to sleep hoodie. I also move big wedge cushion and extra pillow down onto the floor. And put special cushion under my sleep pillow so it is at the perfect angle. Then, finally, I can lie down.
Sometimes I still go on my phone after that, usually to read fanfiction, if I can’t relax enough yet. I also rock back and forth on my side to soothe myself, I have done it since I was very young. I have to put my fan on to sleep, the noise and the feeling on my face is necessary to fall asleep, and it helps keep my temperature okay.
Then, the cycle of morning starts all over again!
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guhmshuda · 3 months
Text
DESI JAMES POTTER HEADCANON
Disclaimer: this is not era-typical. this is strictly subjective, this is my way of projecting my delusions and hoping I meet someone like James Potter some day!!
James craves parental and academic validation.
Now before I get jumped, lets all be real for one second. You are telling me James Potter is a desi first gen NRI and he does not crave validation? I refuse to believe that!! And it was not that Effie and Monty pressurized him... it was the opposite actually. they did not say a thing and my boy just felt he had to be the best because he has such nice parents who never ask for anything how can he ever live up to it??
He was the kind to lose sleep before important days. Right before the big matches and papers you would find James F. Potter roaming the halls of the school in the wee hours of morning, hands tightly clutching onto a mug that says, "You are ENOUGH" (his parents gifted him this in 3rd year when they noticed he was not doing well). The mug is obviously filled to the brim with either masala chai or cold coffee (the indian one).
2. He smelled like cloves
now this is something I have observed in my day to day life and feel like James too, would partake in. He would be the kind to use "spicy" toothpaste. simply because he thinks they last longer or smth. Effie also makes him homemade oil that has cloves (idk what they do I just associate the spice with him OKAY?) So basically when his partner(s) kiss him, they taste and smell clove. And it is not a comforting spice like cinnamon but imagine a whitewashed Regulus getting used to the sting of cloves and the horrible dant kanti-esque taste because the boyfriend uses them. There is a point when Regulus just starts carrying around a small bottle of clove oil or a box of clove and elaichi daana because James smells like cloves and Sirius like cardamom (FIGHT ME.)
3. Resident Problem Solver
Was he mischievous? Hell yes. Did he still make efforts to make sure everyone was okay? Duh.
James would be the kind to ask everyone about their day at the dinner table and be actually interested in what they have to say. He would notice when one of his friends were having a hard day and just drop a ladoo on their plate or ask them if they would like "non-spicy" chai. He would be the peacemaker. ALWAYS. He DID not like conflict. It hurt his soul to watch his friends fight or give each other a cold shoulder.
4. He LOVED being Desi.
he had the diaspora issue, obviously. But Effie and Monty came from the pre-partition India and tried to hold onto their country as much as they could. So James was super used to all the desi things. He had a head full of thick luscious curls because his mother massaged oil and gave him champi every week. When he moved to Hogwarts his hair suffered a little before the Summer when Sirius visited the Potters. Effie taught both of them how to apply oil onto each other's scalps and then it became their tradition at Hogwarts.
5. When Sirius returned bald.
there is a very popular HC that one year Walburga shaved Sirius' hair off because he was being disrespectful or smth. That year, James developed a variant of Indulekha x Parachute Coconut Oil (come on Desis i know you know what I mean) and made sure Sirius had his long hair back before Christmas. He would personally look after his diet, forcing amla tea down his throat or making sure he is eating 3-4 meals that consist of healthy things and not just meat as Sirius would otherwise have it.
Regulus fell in love with James around this time because he did smth he could not, protect Sirius. He went as far as daring Walburga to try to do it again, James would make sure Sirius grows his hair longer than ever.
ps. he was the one who came up with curl-care routine for the marauders and all of them had PJO cast like hair it was so cute jadfiqgfuiwgiuu okay
6. He did not practice any religion
James was not religious, he was spiritual. He did whatever his mum, who herself practiced two religions, told him to do. Both Effie and Monty believed in giving back to the society more than giving to some religious institute, so imagine a first year James rushing into Poppy's wing with an injured bird in his hand begging her to save it.
7. He was the people's princess.
fight the wall. everyone, even the slytherins, secretly LOVED him and the gulab jamuns he would give out on Diwali every year.
8. Enjoyer of classical music.
I have said it before, I will say it again. MY MANZ LISTENED TO GHULAM ALI. idc if he was muggle or what, he loved his music, language be damned.
he enjoyed urdu ghazals more than anything else tbh.
9. TRAINED CLASSICAL MUSICIAN
he was trained in sitar and he could sing as well. he was basically an in house singer. He learnt electric guitar in his 2nd year and then there was no looking back. If he would not have been a professional quidditch player he would have been a musician or a music teacher or smth.
10. he was a STEM student.
okay this is non-canon but comp sci major James? who also happens to enjoy botany? yes. just the best.
11. James who would slip into Urdu when he was overwhelmed, who loved when people played with his hair. James who wrote letters in Urdu or Hindi or whatever regional language his parents spoke and wrote.
12. James potter who hated how his eyes were brown, just brown, growing up. but then one day his mother told him it is what she loves the best about him.
13. James Potter with bitten lips, he does that whenever he is nervous.
14. James Potter who was born during sunrise, his mother believes he is the sun.
15. James who would lay his life for his friends. James who loved hugging Peter, James who committed crimes for Remus.
16. James who adored and admired Minerva so much that he would try everything to get her attention, except he was her favourite student after Lily and Remus (Sirius was her son, let us all be honest).
17. James who played Carnatic Music while studying.
18. James who would wear short kurtas. james who is obsessed with shawls.
19. James who carried a bag full of supplies his friends might need. Like imagine a pouch filled with hair elastics for Sirius and the girls, painkillers for Remus, fidget toys and stress ball for Peter, and cloves for Regulus.
20. James WHO FOUGHT THE AUTHORITY!!!
-- I WILL ADD MORE DW LET ME THINK--
ADD YOURS TOO BTW COME ON HELP A DEMIGIRL OUT
75 notes · View notes