#i am getting several asks a day! Am not used to this! wow! so many!

[absurdthirst]

Dieter's Daughter {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7k

Warnings: Dad!Dieter, mentions of drug use, unplanned pregnancies, freaking out, mentions of foster care, anxiety, lactation kink, babies, domestic bliss, falling in love, sudden marriage proposals, Dieter being a sap, adult breast feeding, oral sex (female receiving), face riding, vaginal sex, pregnancy

Comments: When a baby is dropped off on Dieter's doorstep, he is completely out of his element and doesn't know what to do. Attending a single mother support group meeting, he finds you. Begging you to become a nanny to his daughter.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It takes several minutes for the sounds of the doorbell peeling insistently to break through Dieter’s nearly catatonic state. Too much booze and too many pills are the result of another day of discontent and wishing that there was something other than numbness of life for him. Leaving him grumbling when one eye pops open and he groans when the cotton mouth and headache hits him. “Go away.” He huffs, knowing that there is no way that whoever is at the damn door would hear him all the way in his bedroom. Hell, the only reason he hears the doorbell is because it’s wired to the sound system in the house. Again the bell rings and like the dead rising from the grave, Dieter drags himself out of the safety and comfort of his bed. “Fuck! I’m coming! I’m coming!” The bathrobe he had tossed down last night is put over his boxers and he shuffles towards the stairs as fast as his lethargic body can go.

When Dieter opens the door, he’s shocked to see a woman standing there holding a baby. “Can I help you?” He asks, rubbing his eyes, and she snorts.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” She asks and Dieter squints, “am I supposed to?” 

She laughs humorlessly, “I shouldn’t be surprised, you could barely remember my name that night. I was just amazed that a big actor wanted to fuck me. Remember me? That cocktail waitress from the club you took home about ten months ago?” She says and Dieter scratches his neck. 

“Listen lady, I sleep with a lot of people. It’s hard to remember them all.” He admits with zero qualms. 

“Wow. You’re a fucking asshole. Anyway, I guess the condom broke because congrats, you’re a daddy. It’s a girl. Her name is Rosie. Her birth certificate is in the bag.” She holds the baby out towards him and his eyes widen, looking down at the baby bag in the ground.

”What? I- what the fuck?” He looks bewildered before he starts to laugh. “Good one. Real funny. What do you want? Money?” He scoffs and she shakes her head, tears in her eyes. 

“No. No. I need you to take her. I can’t afford her and I- I didn’t want her. When I found out - I was fucking eight months pregnant so it was too late to get rid of her and I can’t work so I can’t pay for my place. I can’t keep her. You gotta take her. She will be better off with you.” She says and pushes the baby into Dieter’s arms. 

He scrambles to hold the baby, not wanting to drop her and the woman immediately sprints off towards her car. “Hey! Wait! You can’t just- I don’t know how to look after a baby! I need you to - hey. Where the fuck- get back here!” He yells as she squeals off of his driveway and he curses himself for not fixing the gate yet. “Shit.” He hisses. He didn’t even get her name. Looking down at the baby, he sighs and knows he has to find her mom. He can’t be a daddy. He can barely look after himself. 

No, first thing is a damn DNA test and then he’s gonna find that bitch and give her back her baby. He’s gotta call the police after he cleans up his counters from the coke powder. “Fuckkkkk.” He groans, knowing his quiet day just got a whole lot busier.

****

“If we take her, Mr. Bravo, she’s just going to go into a state home. An orphanage.” Dieter frowns and wraps his arms around his chest, nervous for having the fucking cops in his house. Paranoid they were going to find the baggie of Coke he just remembered was in the little box next to his car keys. “You are listed on the birth certificate.” 

Snatching the paper from the officer he squints at it. “How the fuck is that legal?” He demands. “That means anyone could put me down as the father of their kid.” 

The officer shuffles, clearly uncomfortable and slightly in awe of being in the actor’s presence. “That’s for the courts to decide. Look,” he lowers his voice and looks around. “I don’t think you understand how bad the system is for babies.” He tells Dieter seriously. “Just- keep the baby with you, at least until the DNA tests come back. That way you don’t have to fight to get her back when she is yours. You already said you might have slept with this woman. Stranger things have happened.” 

Dieter huffs, upset by the idea of the tiny little human being in an orphanage. Even if she doesn’t look anything like him. He had found diapers and a can of formula in the bag that the mother had left with him but that’s it. He has nothing to take care of a child. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t know shit about kids.” He demands, making the officer chuckle. 

“Hire a nanny.” The officer suggests, smirking. “Isn’t that what you Hollywood types do?”

Dieter knows he can’t just ship the kid off. She’s so tiny and vulnerable. He can’t do it, even he’s not that big of an asshole. He will call his assistant to get a nanny in today. “Listen, do you, uh, know how much formula to use?” He asks the cop who nods and walks over to the counter to show Dieter. 

“One scoop for every two ounces of water. Get baby water but bottled will have to work for today. So four ounces, two scoops. And shake. After she is finished, shift her to your shoulder and gently pat her back to get her to burp.” He says and Dieter nods. 

“How much does she need?” Dieter asks and the cop chuckles, “she’s gonna be hungry a lot. I remember mine at that age. Endless bottles. Be sure to wash them thoroughly.” He says and pats Dieter on the shoulder and makes his way towards the front door of the Sherman Oaks mansion.

“Fuck.” Dieter groans, rubbing his cheek when the police leave and the baby starts to cry. He knows she must be hungry so he fumbles to open the container, grabbing the bottle to fill it with bottled water and putting two scoops in. “I’m coming.” He says, struggling to do the bottle up, and he curses again as he walks over to carefully scoop the baby up. “How do I-?” He struggles to get her to suck on the bottle and sighs in relief when she stops wailing and gulps down the milk.

Dieter holds the baby awkwardly, trying to remember how from that role a few years ago. The baby had been a prop doll, but they had shown him how to hold it. “Your name’s Rosie, huh?” He asks, looking down at the infant. According to the birth certificate, she’s only two months old. “I’m Dieter, but you don’t talk so why am I telling you that?” He huffs, but the baby gurgles around the nipple of the bottle and it makes him grin. “Did you like that?” He asks, lifting a brow. Apparently he’s a natural with kids. 

The baby grunts and the grin immediately slides into a frown. “What’s that?” He asks, feeling something moving. “What are you doing?” Instead of sucking down the milk, the baby is grunting and straining and Dieter stares in horror as the smell starts to reach his nose. “Oh shit! You shit!” He groans in disgust.

The baby starts to cry, unhappy with a full diaper, and Dieter is reaching for his phone. 

“Hello?” His assistant answers and Dieter is panicking. 

“I need you here right now. I need help.” 

Johan, his assistant, frowns, “is that- is that a baby?” He asks and Dieter groans, “get here now. And call a nanny service!” He demands and hangs up. “What do I do?” He asks the baby, shifting to lay her down on a towel so she doesn’t get shit on his expensive rug. “I- shit. You - fuck. That’s disgusting.” He groans and pulls his phone out. “YouTube! I’ll try YouTube.” He looks up ‘how to change a diaper’ and grabs the baby bag.

Dieter watches the video, studying it intently as he keeps a hand on the baby’s stomach. “Looks easy.” He frowns at the squirming baby. “But the doll wasn’t moving.” He sets the phone down beside the bag so he can see it and bites his lip as he tries to figure out the snaps on the onesie she’s in. “Holy shit.” He huffs, amazed at how easy it unsnaps. “I need this in a fucking adult version.” Wrinkling his nose when the smell gets even worse, he groans. “Wheeeeew, God you stink.” He nearly gags and pulls his shirt up over his nose. “What did you eat?”

Trying to plug his nose, he follows the YouTube video, wiping the poop off of her skin after rolling up the dirty diaper and putting it in the diaper bag. Anyone watching would think Dieter is dealing with a bomb. He gags when he pushes the wipes into the bag after cleaning her up and he grabs the rash cream, placing some on her bottom where the video details he should. He curses the new diaper, trying to figure out what way is the front until he sees it says “back” on it and he pulls it tight on her tiny body before he clips her onesies back into place. “Shit. That - that wasn’t too bad.” He murmurs, breathing in the fresh air and she hiccups, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re kind of cute.” Dieter murmurs. “In a weird, ‘you don’t look like me’ kind of way.” He frowns when she grins at him, kicking her feet. “You’re weird.” He huffs, but she just waves her arms at him and squeals. Is she his? After all this time, did he finally fuck up and procreate? His mind spins and he wishes he remembers what the woman looks like better than he does but it had been early (for him) and he had just woken up. “We will have to find you someone who knows what they are doing kiddo.”

**** 

“What did you do?” Johan accuses Dieter who shakes his head, holding the baby in his arms and he looks at her, unable to deny that she looks a little like Dieter. 

“I don’t know man. Some woman, I- Jesus. She said I fucked her and don’t even remember her. I’m waiting for the nurse to come for the DNA test.” Dieter confesses, knowing he has to be sure before he does anything.

“Oh my God, Dieter.” She rolls her eyes and immediately steps closer to the baby, unable to resist seeing her up close. “This is why you said you needed a nanny?” 

Dieter nods and rocks his body as the baby’s eyes start to drift closed. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” He huff, looking around the house that is definitely not baby proof. “I don’t have anything. I need-” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what the fuck I need. More diapers? That formula?” He nods towards the diaper bag. “She didn’t leave me shit for this baby.” He growls, pissed off at the poor planning of that woman. Who just abandons their baby with someone they didn’t know? 

“Let me make a list and we can get what we need for her.” Johan says, knowing Dieter will not know anything that he will need. 

“I need help. And stuff. Like now.” Dieter says, feeling the need to use but he can’t since he’s responsible for a fucking baby now.

Johan nods and bites his lip. “I’ve got a call into a nanny service. They are going to send someone over today.” He knows Dieter will be relieved. “Maybe she can help us with what we need.”

“Let’s get her. I need help. I- shit. I don’t even have a crib or anything. I need you to go out. Take my card and get all the baby shit from the best store there is in town.” He orders, wanting the baby to have the best even if she isn’t his. She’s cute and she deserves a good start in this world. “I need - shit - I have no idea what I’m doing. Please help me.” Dieter begs, the baby falling asleep against his chest and he looks down at her, her lips pouting as she sucks on the pacifier he found in the bag.

Johan grimaces and nods, aware that he has even less experience with babies than Dieter does. “I’ll be back.” The other man promises, quickly making his way towards the door and out of the house. He had no clue what the hell to do for his boss, he’s gotten himself in a mess this time. As much as he wants to claim he doesn’t know that baby is his, it is. Dieter Bravo is a father.

****

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve always been such a fan of your work.” The woman gushes. Dieter can barely remember her name. Violet, Vivian, or something like that. She seems nice enough and her qualifications from the service are good. He doesn’t really know what he’s looking for in a nanny except he desperately needs help. He’s waiting on the DNA results to come in but the little baby is cute and she listens to him rambling without complaints.

Viola looks around the house and wonders how the hell Dieter Bravo became an overnight father. “You must attend parenting classes.” She insists after Dieter finally runs out of steam and shuts up. “There is one I can sign you up for. It’s for new parents and you qualify.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “They have a meeting in two days, I can see about getting you halfway set up.

“What? No. I don’t need a parenting group.” Dieter scoffs and Viola raises her eyebrows. 

“Respectful sir, I think you do.” She offers him a wry smile when the baby starts to cry in his arms. 

“I’m hopeless, aren’t I?” He sighs, trying to rock Rosie and he is struggling to calm her. 

“Here. Can I-?” Viola asks and Dieter practically shoves the baby into her arms. 

“You’re hired.” He declares when Rosie calms down and the crying stops. He can’t do this alone.

“Mr. Bravo,” Viola frowns and shakes her head. “I’m sorry if you misunderstood. I am here temporarily.” She explains. “I have already signed a contract with another family. I came today because it was an emergency.” She wonders if he had heard anything she had said when she arrived, he had looked frazzled but she thought she had been clear. 

“What? No! You seem like such a nice lady and Rosie likes you. Please. I’ll pay more. I’ll do anything to get you to stay.” He pleads, “name your price. I’ll fucking pay it. Please!” He pouts, eyes wide and pleading. 

Viola shakes her head, “I’m so sorry. I can’t get out of the contract. I’ll help you as much as I can. Johan said you need help learning the basics so I’ll show you the basics and take care of Rosie while I can but you’re going to have to learn what to do.” She says, knowing it’s going to be tough.

“I can’t do this.” Dieter wails, knowing life as he knows it is over. Without someone here, he going to fuck it up. “Please, please, you have to stay.” He begs, making Viola shake her head. 

“I am here for one week, Mr. Bravo. Then it will be up to you to find someone to help you care for Rosie. Now, let me show you how to bathe your daughter.”

****

“She’s yours.” Dieter exhales shakily as Johan announces the DNA results. 

“Shit. I- I have a daughter.” He shakes his head and looks over at Rosie who is asleep in her bassinet. “What am I gonna do?” Dieter asks as reality sets in. He has a child that he’s responsible for and Viola is only here for two more days. “She’s - she’s so tiny and I’m gonna fuck it up. She’s gonna get fucked up because of me.” He starts to panic now that reality has hit.

“You are going to go to the parenting class tonight and we are going to continue to look for a nanny.” Johan tells Dieter practically. He’s been surprised that Dieter hasn’t done as many drugs as he normally does, even smoking weed outside because of the baby. “So far all the services I’ve called don’t have anyone available until next year.” He shakes his head. “Apparently it was baby season this year.”

Dieter groans, covering his face with his hands and dragging them down his cheeks. “I have pre-production for the movie coming up in a few weeks. I can’t take her with me to a table read.” He whines and Rosie shifts in her sleep, making Dieter’s heart melt when the movement catches his attention and he looks over. “Fine. I’ll go to the parenting class. Maybe…maybe someone can help me find a nanny there.” He says, determined to find help. 

****

Dieter walks into the church hall, surprised he hasn’t burst into flames. He hasn’t been to church since he was a kid. His mama used to drag him on a Sunday and when he became famous at ten years old, he managed to bail on church because he was working. He sits down in a seat, noticing how all the other attendees are women. Rosie is asleep in her carrier for now and he has the diaper bag at his feet. “Welcome ladies and - oh. Hi, we have a new member.” An older woman smiles at Dieter, “welcome to the single mom support group.”

“Oh, uh, I thought it was-“ Dieter falters for a moment, panicking about being kicked out of the group. “I thought this was a single parent support group.” He explains, shuffling. “I just- uh, the mother of the child- my child- I just got the DNA test back, dropped her off on my door with no warning.” He rambles, trying to explain why he needs to stay. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” He confesses, nearly sounding defeated.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You can stay.” A few of the moms recognize Dieter and he looks exhausted. Rosie had kept him up half of the night since Viola has been weaning him off of her help, and he glances around. 

“I’m sorry to - shit. I can go.” He says and you are sitting next to him. 

“No, stay. It’s okay. We are all here to help each other.” Your own son, three months old, is whining and you sigh, pulling your tank top down and unclipping your bra to breastfeed him.

Dieter’s eyes widen at the sight of your breast and he can’t deny his cock twitches a little at the idea of drinking down some milk. Shit, when did that kink happen? “I appreciate it. I have no clue what I’m doing.” He admits again and all the women laugh, “none of us do. It’s instinct and a lot of books.” One giggles, “and Google.”

“I didn’t even know.” Dieter moans, shaking his head. “It was- it was a one night stand.” He feels bad about that, not even able to tell Rosie about his relationship with her mom when she gets older. “I’m trying to hire a nanny but all of them are booked up.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to fuck her up. She’s so tiny. Two months old.”

“What’s her name?” You ask him, looking at the little girl asleep in her carrier. 

“Rosie.” He says with a soft smile, it’s hard to not love the little girl now that he knows she’s his. He wants the best for her, even if she’s stuck with a manic mess like him. “This is Oliver.” You gesture to the baby now asleep on your breast.

Dieter smiles and tries not to notice the grunting sounds the kid is making. Feeling guilty because he knows that he would be making the exact same sounds the kid is if he was sucking down milk from your tit. “That’s nice.” He offers. 

“So what is your name?” The woman in charge smiles fondly at him and he’s surprised no one recognizes him. 

“Uh, Dieter.” He offers, curling his shoulders slightly. “Dieter Bravo.”

“Welcome Dieter.” Several of the women say to him with a smile. 

“So do you have any questions?” Julia, the group leader asks. 

“Where the fuck do I begin?” He replies dramatically, making all the women chuckle. 

“Well, we are here to help each other so might as well start.”

“So my first question. So is their shit always gonna be that black color?” Dieter shakes his head, making a face as he remembers the last diaper he had changed. 

All the women laugh. “No that won’t last for much longer since she’s three months old.” 

Dieter rolls his eyes gratefully. “Oh thank God.” He chuckles. Looking over at you again. “You said your son is two months old? Is he sleeping all night? Is that something that she has to get used to?”

You shake your head, “he isn’t sleeping through the night yet. I breastfeed so he wakes me up every couple of hours. It takes a while for them to sleep through the night. Like six months or so. Have you read any baby books?” You ask and he shakes his head. “Oh you must read - you know what. I’ll send you a list. What’s your number?” You ask and the women all giggle, making you fluster. “I mean, to help. We have babies close in age. It’s good to have help.”

“Do you need a job?” Dieter blurts out, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before. “I mean- if your husband doesn’t mind.” He corrects himself, forgetting it was a single mother’s group. “I'm just- I’ve got to start pre-production on the next movie and it’s going to be crazy and you seem like you’re perfect. You handle your baby so easily.” His eyes are wide and pleading, begging you to say yes.

Your eyes widen, "I- um, oh wow. A job?" 

The other women all nod, telling Dieter about your history as a teacher and how you know CPR. You fluster, knowing you need a job. Your maternity leave ended two weeks ago and instead of letting you come back to work, your job had fired you. Between losing your job and your landlord chasing you up on rent, you know this is too good to turn down. "I'm not married and um, what job do you have in mind?"

“Nanny.” He jumps immediately on your question. Knowing that it’s not a ‘no’. “I’ll pay you really well and you can- can you live there? I mean, I can have odd hours and you can stay at my place. You and Oliver.” He makes sure to include your son. “I have a big house. In Sherman Oaks.” As if that would sweeten the deal. “Help me with Rosie and teach me how to be a dad. How to look after her. I don’t expect you to do it all.” He clarifies, having already gotten used to the idea of being a ‘girl dad’. He’s watched a few Tik Toks about it and it looks cool.

You know it sounds too good to be true. A job and a place to live with your son. “I think we need to sit down and talk this through properly. You don’t even know me. Don’t you wanna do a background check?” You ask, knowing you’d be doing that if you were hiring someone to live in your house. “We have a lot to discuss.” You bite your lip and look around the room to see the other moms nodding to encourage you.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dieter nods seriously. “My agent will have that done. Plus the NDA you would have to sign.” He’s grateful you are even thinking about it. “But don’t worry. Most of the tabloid stuff is bullshit. I’m not that bad.” He promises with a quick, charming grin. “We can hammer out the details after this, right?”

“Uh, sure.” You nod and Dieter winks at you before turning back to the women, their own babies in their arms and you know this is too good an opportunity to turn down. “You wanna go get a coffee?” You ask Dieter after Oliver is in his stroller and you look at Rosie who is still asleep, unaware of her father trying to hire her a new nanny. 

“As long as it’s quiet.” He says and you frown, “uh, sure. You said you are going into pre-production so does that mean you are an actor?” You ask, unaware of if he’s famous.

Dieter stares at you for a moment, wondering if you are just trying to play coy but you are just looking at him curiously. “Yeah, uh, I am.” He admits, finding it refreshing that someone on this planet doesn’t know who he is or have any expectations of him. “I normally do two or three movies a year, depending on how long they take to film or whatever.” He struggles with the carrier and the door, holding it open for you on the other side. “Gotta get one of those.” He tells himself, eyeing your stroller.

“We can make a list of what you’ll need. I’m guessing you have the basics but there’s so much stuff.” You sigh, knowing it’s not always been in your reach but someone like him could buy it all. 

“A list sounds good. Coffee?” He suggests, gesturing to the small coffee shop down the street and you nod. 

“Sounds good. I desperately need one. He kept me up all night. He was hungry last night and wouldn’t settle unless he was against my breast.”

Dieter keeps his dirty thoughts to himself, but he doesn’t blame the kid. He would love to sleep with a nipple in his mouth too. “We will make sure to get you an extra shot of espresso.” He promises, carrying the car seat and diaper bag as he walks alongside you. “I’m being serious. About the job, I mean.” He tells you. “I have tried every nanny service in the greater L.A. area with no luck, although I’m on their waitlist.” He sighs and shuffles the carrier when his arm gets tired in one position. “I have an in-law suite you and Oliver can use, if you want a little more privacy than just sleeping upstairs.” He knows he sounds desperate, because he is desperate. Johan knows less than he does about babies and has zero interest in watching the kid while he is busy.

“Let’s sit down with the babies and then we can order.” You suggest and he nods, guiding you over to a table in the back. Rosie is waking up and he panics when she starts to cry. “Oh hello gorgeous.” You murmur, leaning down to look at his daughter and Dieter is fumbling to get the bottle from the bag to make her formula. You sigh, sensing he needs help and you unbuckle the baby, Oliver asleep as you cradle Rosie, her cries settling a little and you stand up, rocking her and you reach for the formula Dieter has, a whole damn container, and work fast on a bottle. “My sister has kids. I used to babysit them.” You explain and work fast with one hand to prepare a bottle and bring it to her lips. “Here you go sweet pea.” You coo as she starts to gulp down the milk.

“You’re really good at this.” Dieter says in awe, watching you handle things so smoothly. “I’m just-I don’t know.” He sighs, feeling bad that he’s not good at this. 

“Babies sense the emotions around them.” You tell him quietly. “You panic, she’s going to become more frantic. Just talk to her while you are getting her bottle ready. Or have one already mixed up, ready to go.” You think about all the formulas that are already bottled and just need a nipple slapped on them. “We can find a routine that works for you.”

Dieter nods, “yes. Yes. God, please take the job. I need you.” He pleads and you shift Rosie into his arms, transferring the bottle to him. 

“I’ll take the job. On one condition.” You say, sitting back down and you rock Oliver’s stroller. 

“Anything.” Dieter vows. 

“You learn too. I don’t want you to just shove her into my arms at the first sign of difficulty. She’s your daughter. You need to know how to care for her, to bond with her. You can’t just hand her off and expect me to do it all. She needs to know her daddy.”

Dieter nods, knowing that he would do that if given the opportunity. “Okay.” He agrees. “I want you to help me become better at taking care of her.” He bites his lip and looks at you. “What do you want for pay?” He asks, listing off a number that the nanny services had given him. “Does that sound okay? Plus, you’ll have full use of the house. And a card for expenses. I don’t expect you to buy the diapers or wipes or any of that shit.”

Your eyes widen, it’s way more than you were making at your old job. Your landlord has been threatening you with eviction since you’re struggling to pay, and this almost seems like fate. “Wow. I- are you sure?” You ask him and he nods, “I’m absolutely sure.” 

You swallow and offer him a soft smile, “then I’m your new nanny.” He grins and your heart thumps in your chest at how handsome he is. “There’s something you gotta know though.” You sigh and Dieter nods, waiting for you to go on. “Oliver’s father. He - he died.” You feel yourself tearing up, “we - I was only a few months pregnant when we got into the car accident.  I didn’t even know I was pregnant at the time but Ollie- he- he died. We were- we were friends, friends with benefits and we got pregnant and he- he never got to meet his son.” You choke, the grief that’s consumed you threatens to take you again. He didn’t have any family left alive so Oliver would’ve been his only family.

“I’m sorry.” Dieter frowns, unsure of how to comfort someone about a death that meaningful but he feels like he should say something. “That is rough. Hopefully- hopefully this will turn into a good arrangement.” He offers with a small shrug, realizing that things could be worse. He can’t imagine what it would be like going through this alone. “After our coffee, do you want to come over? See the house?” He asks. “I can call my agent to draw up any kind of paperwork you want.”

You nod, sniffing to stop yourself from crying about Ollie. You loved him, he was your friend, but you were never in love with him. He had his problems and you had yours. It would’ve never worked. Oliver is here now and you have to be strong for him, to keep Ollie’s memory alive. “Yes. I- this is a lot but I want to change my life. I need a change. I want to work for you.” You say as the barista takes pity on you with the babies and comes over to take your order. “I’ll have a vanilla latte please.” You order and Dieter adds, “with an extra shot of espresso.”

After taking your orders, Rosie finishes her bottle and Dieter shifts to put her up on his shoulder to burp. “Hang on, you need a spit rag.” You insist, digging in your own diaper bag to produce one. 

“Huh,” Dieter huffs, “I just thought I was supposed to wear her puke until she stopped doing that.” He jokes, the stains on his shirt only partly from his daughter. 

“No, you always carry multiple burp clothes and changes of clothes, for both of you.” You tell him with a smile.

He nods, mentally taking notes. He has so much to learn from you to make sure his daughter is well looked after. He doesn’t want to fail at being a father. He wants her to know he did everything he could to be a good daddy. He knows you will be good for Rosie, for him too. He sips his coffee and watches you with Oliver, rocking his stroller, and he can see you’re a good mom. He feels comfortable with you. “Do you wanna come back to my place?” Dieter asks, realizing that’s the first time he’s asked that question without it being for sex or drugs

You bite your lip and look up at the frazzled, yet handsome man who is offering you a dream situation. A place to live and the ability to stay at home with your son while still earning money. You don’t know if you would ever get a better offer. “Yes.” You agree. “I’ll follow you? Maybe you can text me the address in case we get separated?” You want to look it up really quickly, just to make sure it’s a real place.

He nods, taking your number to text you his address. He is anxious for you to see the house, hoping you love it and it helps to get you to take the job. You strap Oliver into his car seat while Dieter does the same to Rosie and soon enough, you’re driving to his house.

“I, uh, I’ll ask the housekeeper to come in more than once a week.” Dieter offers, climbing out of his car as you do the same. He doesn’t want you to think that it’s all going to fall on you. “Oh, Johan told me about a diaper delivery service. All natural diapers? That’s better, right?” He asks, anxious about doing the right thing. He had read about the chemicals used in the nappies he currently has.

You smile at his anxiety, wanting the best for Rosie, and you know he’s going to be a good daddy once he gets his feet under him. “Johan?” You ask and Dieter nods, “my assistant. He’s - he is my lifeline.” Dieter confesses and you nod, understanding he lives a completely different life to you. He needs an assistant to manage his schedule. You take Oliver out of the car in his carrier and follow Dieter into the house, your eyes wide at the gorgeous home he owns. “This is - wow.” You exhale as you enter the grand property.

“Thank you.” Dieter shows you the bottom floor and opens the door to his study. “I have all this shit I don’t know what it’s for.” The room is filled with boxes of toys and jumpers, cribs and carriers. Johan had gone overboard but Dieter had wanted to make sure that he had everything he needed. Your eyes widen and he blushes, “I was trying my best.” 

You nod, understating he has struggled since Rosie was dropped on his doorstep. “We can get everything set up. Does she have a nursery?” You ask and he shakes his head, “she’s been in my room. I- I haven’t really slept. I’ve been trying to watch her sleep in case, you know.” 

You understand, knowing you stay awake watching Oliver breathing. It’s a lot of anxiety being a first time parent. “We will get her nursery set up and then you can keep her in your room if you want but then she has somewhere to nap and call her own.” You smile and rub his shoulder after you set Oliver down in his carrier, he’s asleep. “It’s gonna be fine.” You promise him, glancing around the beautiful living room. “It’s gonna need some baby proofing and, uh, that needs to go.” You gesture to the powder packet on the counter.

“Oh, I, uh-“ Dieter rushes forward and grabs the packet to sweep it off the counter and into his pocket. “I haven’t- that’ll be put away.” He promises, cursing himself for leaving it out. He hadn’t taken any lately, not since Rosie arrived because he’s too fucking scared of something happening to her while he’s bombed. “Sorry.” He hopes you don’t decide to leave him high and dry because of that. “Do you want to see the rooms you and Oliver could have?” He asks desperately.

You stop him, “I- I am taking the job but you won’t do drugs in this house with the babies. If something happened or they got hold of it - I couldn’t - no drugs in this house. Period. You wanna go get high somewhere else? Fine. But your daughter comes first, you understand?” You ask him, knowing you won’t risk your own son around that kind of bullshit.

Immediately nodding, Dieter understands what you are saying. “I haven’t- not since she’s arrived.” He confesses. “I’ve been too scared to even try in case something happens.” He’s not stupid enough to think he won’t do drugs anymore but he does want to be there for his daughter.

You nod, knowing it’s not ideal but it will have to do. As long as they aren’t kept in the house and he doesn’t do them around the children, it’s his business. You are just his employee. “Okay.” You pat his shoulder and he guides you to the guest suite. “Dieter…this is…wow.” You gasp at the massive room, “this is - this is a lot. Are you sure - there’s no other room you want me to have?” You ask, knowing this room is the size of your apartment.

“You need room for you and Oliver.” He shrugs, not wanting to say that he doesn’t have guests unless it was someone from a party. And he doubts he’s having those here anymore. “This way you have privacy and your own bathroom.” He knows that is important and figured this would be perfect. “And using another room for Oliver is okay too.” He doesn’t want to suggest the nursery can be shared, but he wouldn’t mind. “Will this work?”

You smile, reaching out to pat his arm, “this is more than enough, Dieter. It’s perfect.” You promise and he grins, pleased that you are happy. He sighs when Rosie starts to cry and Oliver follows suit, both babies waking up. “Come on daddy, let’s go feed the babies.”

He feels more confident with you beside him. Even if it’s just your presence reminding him that he should test the bottle on the inside of his wrist before popping the nipple in Rosie’s mouth while Oliver is greedily suckling at your breast for his own meal. “That wasn’t too bad.” He grins down at his daughter, eyes wide but slowly starting to close as she gulps down the bottle. “How often do you have to feed Oliver?” He asks, trying to keep his eyes on your face respectfully. You aren’t giving him a show.

“About every one and a half to two hours. Depends on when he’s hungry. He lets me know.” You chuckle and watch your son as his gulps turn into suckles which lead to him falling asleep against your breast. “It’s - it’s exhausting but he’s worth it.” You smile at Dieter who is rocking Rosie. “You’re getting better already. We will make a list of everything we need for you and, um, I guess I better go and pack.” You smile bashfully, knowing this is a big move but it’s what’s best for you and Oliver.

“Why don’t we hire someone to pack you?” Dieter asks with a frown. You have your hands full and he knows that it will take a lot to take care of your son and try to pack. “I’ll pay for it. I don’t mind. That way we can get the nursery set up.”

“Are you sure? I- I don’t know if you’re gonna find someone so late notice. I don’t have much. And I will need Oliver’s crib and -” 

You don’t get to finish because Dieter is pulling out his phone to call Johan and arrange for your things to be moved today. “Whatever it costs.” Dieter says and you swallow, knowing Dieter has more money than you could imagine if he can waste it like that. 

“Thank you.” You tell him, cradling Oliver who is fast asleep.

“It’s nothing.” Dieter waves away the thanks and looks down at Rosie as she finishes the last of her bottle. “Okay little girl, let’s get you to burp, and then maybe a nap?” He asks, grinning. “She has the manliest burps.” He brags, astounded that something so small could make such a racket. “I have the other cradle thingy if you want to lay your son down.”

“The bassinet?” You smirk and he shrugs one shoulder, “I’m still learning.” You nod and let him guide you to the bassinet and you carefully lay Oliver down before adjusting your shirt after clipping your nursing bra. Rosie burps and you giggle softly, liking how proud Dieter is of her and you watch him lay her down in the cradle next to Oliver. “Maybe they will be best friends.” You whisper, leaning closer to him.

“That would be cool.” Dieter imagines it, his own childhood lonely and isolated. There were times he had wished desperately for a built-in friend. “Let’s get out of here before we wake them up.” He has learned that Rosie is cranky if she gets woken up before she’s ready and he doesn’t blame her, he’s the same way. Maybe she got it from him. “So, uh, since there’s two kids….just, um, we’re gonna need that double stroller thingy, right?” Dieter asks as he walks down the hall with you. “And can you show me that carrier thing? The one you have the baby wrapped to your body? That looks cool. Oh, and uh, the diapers. The service, when we get that set up, use it for Oliver too.” He adds. “No need to have two different types of diapers, right?”

You nod, realizing it’s best not to argue. “Let’s leave them to sleep and we can work on getting the nursery set up. I- I really appreciate this opportunity, Dieter.” You tell him and lean in to kiss his cheek. He blushes as you set your phone up as a makeshift baby monitor, calling his phone, and you leave the babies to sleep. Dieter follows you, his eyes dropping down to your ass, and he curses internally when he realizes he finds you hot. 

****

“Dieter!” You call out, trying to find your boss. Oliver and Rosie are having tummy time on the play mat and you need your breast pump. It’s been a couple of months since you moved in with Dieter to become his full time nanny and it’s been surprisingly nice. Rosie is a good girl and you’ve grown to fall in love with her, making sure her and Oliver get equal treatment. “Can you get my pump?” You ask when he doesn’t respond.

“Yeah!” Dieter reluctantly lets go of his cock and tucks it away in his dress slacks. He had been trying to tug one out before he had to go to court, formally getting custody of his daughter. Nervous and not able to get high, jerking off had become even more of a habit than before now he had started thinking about you while he was doing it. You’re so fucking pretty and kind. Looking like an angel as you take care of his daughter. Dieter knows that he’s falling in love with you but he can’t do anything about it. Not willing to risk you leaving and denying Rosie the best nanny in the world. Washing his hands quickly, he rushes to the kitchen to grab the pump where you had cleaned it last night while he sterilized bottles. “Here it is.”

You thank him, breasts aching and you attach the suction, not thinking about Dieter as you sigh in relief at the milk finally being pumped. “Shit. That feels good.” You groan, the whooshing of the machine pumping and you have been pumping enough for Rosie to have milk too. It’s been a lot but you love the babies. “What time do you have to leave?” You ask Dieter, catching him staring at your tits and you hate that it thrills you. He’s so sexy, unintentionally so, and goofy as hell. He’s good with his daughter and you’ve grown close, raising the babies together, and you know it’s getting harder and harder to deny how you feel every day.

“Oh, uh, I gotta leave in twenty minutes.” His cock is still hard in his trousers and he twitches at the groan you make. Every day you pump, having no modesty around him now and you shouldn’t - it’s natural but Dieter still thinks it’s sexy. “I’m nervous.” He admits, glancing over at Rosie as she squeals and waves her arms on her tummy. “I know that my lawyer said it’s a formality, but what if the judge doesn’t like me? What if he takes Rosie from me?”

You shake your head and reach for his hand, squeezing it. “I promise you, it’s gonna be fine, D. You’re a good daddy and that will be shown. I know your past hasn’t been ideal but you got this. You’re a good man, Rosie is lucky to have you. We all are. It’s gonna be fine. I promise you.” You offer him a soft smile and squeeze his hand again.

“I’m more nervous than the night I won my Oscar.” Dieter confesses with a nervous chuckle. He doesn’t tell you that he was high, sure that you could guess that, although he has done anything more than hit his weed pen since you’ve moved in. Rosie is surprisingly therapeutic, although he’s glad she doesn’t understand what he talks about during the nights he gets up with her. The movie is almost halfway done shooting and he’s going to make sure that once he’s done, you get a week off so you can veg for more than a night. He looks down at your joined hands and smiles. “I’ll call you when I get out, okay?” He asks, and you nod, letting go of him. “And eat that kale and beet salad in the fridge”, he throws over his shoulder as he rushes towards the door. “It’s supposed to help the milk supply.”

You roll your eyes playfully, looking back at the babies. “Daddy is silly, isn’t he?” You talk to Rosie and look at Oliver, saddened that he isn’t going to know his father. You wonder what Ollie would think of Dieter. They are similar in a lot of ways but Ollie was always practical, making sure you weren’t in a relationship because of his strenuous job as a firefighter. He didn’t want you to be one of those women sitting around waiting for him. You sigh and wonder what you are going to do about Dieter. It’s too comfortable with him. 

****

“Dinner’s ready!” You call out. The babies are now six and seven months old. Sitting in their baby bouncers, watching you setting the dinner out for Dieter. He’s finished filming and you want to celebrate. The nice bottle of wine on the table alongside his favorite pasta.

“Oh my god, you spoil me.” Dieter groans as he comes into the dining room, freshly showered and in comfortable clothes. Rosie squeals happily and so does Oliver, both of them in their high chairs. Dieter grins leaning in and blowing a raspberry on his daughter’s cheek and then on your son’s. He never thought he was a kid type of person, but his playfulness extends to your son. He’s a good kid and it would not be right when you are so good with Rosie if he ignored the little guy. It makes him imagine that the four of you are a family, a real one and he was coming home from work to all of you. “You didn’t have to do this.”

You shake your head, enjoying the way his hand finds your waist as you reach for the parmesan on the counter. You turn to face him, cupping his cheek, “you just finished filming. You deserve a treat.” You smile, caressing his cheek and your eyes dip down to his lips for a second. He stares at you and you clear your throat, lowering your hand, “let’s eat. You must be starving.” You set the cheese down and glance over at the babies, you fed them while dinner was cooking so now you and Dieter can enjoy your meal.

“How was your day?” He’s finding that this, fatherhood and responsibility, is grounding for him. Not just concentrating on his whims and trolling through boredom. Every day is different and challenging with kids, especially when he’s trying to make sure that none of his own parents' mistakes affect Rosie. “The kids were okay?” He asks, pouring more wine into each of your glasses. You hum in protest but Dieter shakes his head. “Just pump and dump. You deserve more than one glass.” He huffs.

You sigh but let him pour some more wine, it’s been stressful with the babies today. “Rosie decided to throw up all over Oliver and herself so both of them needed a bath and then Oliver managed to get his diaper off in his onesie so he needed another bath and then Rosie wouldn’t stop crying because Oliver wasn’t next to her. It’s been - it’s been a day.” You sigh and Dieter nods, reaching for your hand. It feels so normal, like you’re complaining to your husband about your hectic day over wine and you look up at Dieter, “I love them both so much but today was…it was a lot.”

“I can imagine.” Dieter squeezes your hand gently and once again thinks that it’s odd that you don’t feel like his employee. You feel like his wife, although he’s never kissed you, or touched you like he’s imagined. “Let me take both the kids tonight.” He offers. “I’ve got the next week off before I have to do all the press bullshit for the other movie coming out in two weeks. Why don’t you take a little vacation? A spa or something?” His parenting skills have improved drastically and there have been times where he’s watched Oliver for you. Like when you had to go for another postpartum checkup.

You groan, letting go of his hand so you can continue eating. “I won’t lie…a massage sounds good. My back has been killing me.” You confess, twirling the pasta around your fork and you bite your lip, wondering what a massage from him would be like with his hands. “I wouldn’t mind going to the mall. I need some new clothes that aren't leggings.” You chuckle, “and I need some new underwear.” You sigh before you chew on the pasta.

Dieter’s cock twitches at the thought of your underwear. Not that he sees them. You’ve taken over doing the laundry even though he offered to have someone come in. Or he could help. Insisting that it was no problem. Johan had even commented that you made his house seem like a real home, and Dieter couldn’t deny that. “You could do all that.” He promises. “I’ll watch the kids. I want to spend some time with R and O.”

You feel guilty leaving the kids behind but you trust Dieter, something you never thought you’d say, but he has proven himself to be an amazing father. You smile, “thanks baby.” You tell him and he swallows the wine down. It’s getting harder to deny how you feel. After finishing eating, Dieter helps you clean up while you have the babies in the play pen. “Bedtime for the bubbies.” You coo, picking up Rosie and kissing her hair. “Daddy is gonna change you, baby girl.” You slide her into Dieter’s arms and pick up Oliver.

“Why don’t you go take your own bath?” Dieter offers, grinning down at Rosie. “You’ve had them all day and you said it’s been rough. Go take a bubble bath. I can get them ready for bed.” He’s made huge strides as a father, as a caretaker and now that he’s more confident, he finds he likes it. Kids are fun. And easy to learn how to please. “I can rock them both and get them settled.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, trusting him but you want him to be comfortable. 

“I am for this.” He promises and you nod, “you got this. I- I can feed O before they get to sleep.” You say and he shakes his head. 

“No. I got it.” He promises, knowing he can warm up your milk. 

You lean in to kiss the babies’ heads, “goodnight my loves. I love you so much.” You say to them and you look up at Dieter, offering him a grateful smile. You make your way into the bathroom, sighing in relief when you sink into the tub.

Dieter hums to the babies as he warms up their last bottles of the night. Changed and in clean onesies, they are ready for that last bottle. Smirking to himself as he tests the breast milk on his wrist and barely resists licking it. He wants to try it, but he feels like that might be crossing a line. Getting both of the babies settled in each arm and they can hold their own bottle now with a little help. “You two are like twins, you know that?” He coos at both of them, settling in the rocker on the nursery while they eat. Watching their eyes grow heavier as they suck. You had both decided to keep them in the same nursery, letting them bond and it has worked out so much better than he had ever hoped. He loves Oliver like Rosie and when they fall asleep at the same time, he’s grinning as he holds them for a little longer before shifting to put them to sleep in the same crib. They cried if they were separated, curling up together during the night as if they were twins.

You sigh, relaxing in the hot water until you decide to get out and say goodnight to the babies. You shrug your robe on, tying it as you make your way to the nursery as Dieter leans over the crib. “They asleep?” You whisper and he nods. You caress their heads, loving how they are asleep together, keeping each other safe. Sometimes you see them holding hands in the night. It’s adorable. You rest your head on Dieter’s shoulder as you watch them for another moment and he turns his head to kiss your hair. It makes your heart pound and you pull away, letting the babies sleep with the white noise machine running.

Dieter’s hands seem to be twitchy as you walk out of the nursery in front of him. He knows that you are only dressed in a robe and he wants nothing more than to strip you out of it and touch you. Make you shake in pleasure. “Do you want to have a drink?” Dieter asks. “Or are you calling it a night?”

“A drink sounds good. Relax after a long day.” You smile, walking into the kitchen to open the second bottle of wine you’d bought earlier. You work fast to open it, pouring a glass and handing it to him before you settle on the sofa. “You wanna continue watching that show on HBO?” You ask, knowing he hates it when you watch an episode without him.

“Yes!” Dieter lights up and he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You better not have already watched it.” He threatens playfully, handing you the remote. He likes when you relax and loves that you feel completely at home here. It is your home. He leans towards you and takes a sip of the wine. “What do you think is gonna happen, this episode? The previews looked good.”

You nod, shifting closer towards him. “I promise you. I haven’t seen it yet.” You assure him and have another sip of your wine. You love and hate how relaxed you are, how easy this is. How real it feels. Like you’re a proper family. The baby monitor is on the coffee table and you rest your head on Dieter’s shoulder as he presses play. You barely watch the show, too focused on the way Dieter feels pressed against you.

About halfway through the show Dieter shuffles, throwing his arm around the backside of the couch and around you. Letting you slide down against him more. You pull the throw blanket over your legs and he smiles, wondering how you are always cold but it’s a cute quirk he’s noticed.

You snuggle into his side, hand finding his chest and you caress the skin under the shirt he always has half buttoned. He sighs and you breathe him in, pleased to feel his heart thumping under your touch. This intimacy, it’s what keeps you satisfied when you yearn for more but you can’t risk it. Your job. Your home. Your life is connected to his and you can’t afford to mess it up. 

“Marry me.” Dieter says and you think you misheard him. 

“What?” You ask, not moving. 

“Marry me.” He repeats and you jerk back from his side so you can look him in the eyes. 

“What- did you just ask me to marry you?”

“I did.” Dieter nods, turning towards you and reaching for your hand. “I love you. I love how you make this house feel like a home. I love how you care for Rosie and I love Oliver.” He adds. “I love coming home to you and I want this-“ he motions around the house and between the two of you. “To be real. I want to touch you, kiss you. Make love to you.” Dieter isn’t a man who talks in terms like ‘making love’ but that’s exactly what it would be. “I think you love me too, don’t you? I know you do.”

You shake your head, wanting to tell him you love him. He’s crazy, he leaves his socks everywhere and he has so many holes in his shirts but he’s kind and whacky and so damn funny. You love him, you’re in love with him, but to marry him would be a bad idea. You can’t risk this life you’ve created together. “Dieter.” You sigh, pulling your hand out of his. “We can’t. We can’t risk the babies. We - if it all went wrong, then I’d be moving out with Oliver and Rosie loses him and vice versa. If it all went wrong, I’d be homeless and I wouldn’t have anything. I can’t risk that for my son. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

His heart breaks but he’s determined to convince you this is a good thing. Latching onto what you said about being homeless, his eyes widen. “I’ll buy you a house.” He bursts out. “In your name alone. It’ll be yours. Completely.” He nods to himself, grinning like an idiot and picks up your hand again. “It won’t go wrong, you’re perfect and I love you. I want to be with you and our babies all the time and fuck, I want another baby when you���re ready.” He missed everything about Rosie’s birth and he wants to see your stomach large with a baby, his baby. “But if it did-“ he stresses the word ‘if’, “-you would have a house for you and Oliver. And you could rent it out right now. The money would be yours. Totally yours.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “I can’t - that’s too much. A house here is insane. That’s a crazy amount to put into this. That - a whole damn house? That’s what you want to do?” You ask incredulously and he nods. 

“All I know is that I can’t stop thinking about you. I need you. I love you.” He promises and you swallow harshly, tears stinging in your eyes. 

Your heart yearns for him yet your head tells you it’s too much of a risk. “Dieter…” You trail off and he frowns, pulling away slightly, sensing your rejection. “I love you.” Your eyes water and a sob escapes your lips as you start to cry. No one has ever been so kind to you. To know he loves you enough to buy a house so you feel secure in case something goes wrong. It has you sobbing.

He lunges forward, crushing you to him in a comforting hug. “Don’t cry baby, please don’t cry. I never want you to cry.” He pleads, sure that he’s messed up somehow. “I’m sorry, I just can’t stop wanting you. Seeing you with our babies, I think- I wish they were ours. Our twins and we had them together.” He rubs your back and pets your hair as you sob into his chest and he tries to think of how he could make you feel better.

You sob into his chest at his words, wishing they were true but it’s not and that’s okay. The babies brought you together and you know you and Dieter would’ve never met if it weren’t for that single moms group. “I - I love you.” You offer him a watery smile as you pull back and he reaches out to gently wipe your tears away. “I love you and I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. I love you Dieter.” You confess, cupping his cheeks.

Dieter’s smile is slow, soft and he can’t believe that you are saying yes. He leans in and presses his lips to yours softly. Loving how you immediately open for him to slide his tongue against yours with a groan. Pulling you close against him again, this time shamelessly pressing his body against yours. “I love you.” He promises, kissing down your jaw line. “Do you want to have sex with me? Or do you want to wait?” He wants you in his bed, but if you wanted to wait until the deed to the house was in your hands, he would understand that. He would go out tomorrow and buy you the best house he could find.

You know you’ve spent far too much time thinking about him, having him inside of you, pressing against you, and you know you should slow down but you can’t. “I want you. I don’t want to wait. I want you now.” You tell him breathlessly and you press your lips to his, cupping his cheek while you slide your tongue against his.

Groaning, Dieter pulls you closer and starts to lean you back against the sofa, knowing that he needs to take you to bed but right now, he needs to feel you under him. “So beautiful.” He praises, kissing your chin and nips your skin with his teeth.

You sigh, loving how it feels to have him touch you. His hand sliding along your thigh and you whimper, “Dieter. Please. I want you to touch me.” You plead, guiding his hand to the tie of your robe while your hands caress his chest under his ratty t-shirt.

He hums, twitching against your hip and he leans back and grins at you, “I’m going to, baby. I’m going to make sure you know exactly what you are getting from me.” He pulls your robe open and groans at the sight of your tits. Looking back up at you. “Can I taste?” He asks. “I’ve dreamed of tasting your milk.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing at the thought. “You’ve imagined it?” You ask breathlessly and he nods so you move fast to straddle him, his cock hard against your thigh, and you lean in towards him to kiss him as you shrug your robe off of your shoulders. “You can have a taste.”

He knows your tits are tender, hearing you complain and watching as you sometimes have to massage them. He cups them in his hands, groaning at how full they are, grinning. “Fuck, I can drink it all since you were going to dump it.” He realizes as he leans forward to wrap his lips around one nipple.”

“Oh shit.” You gasp, groaning softly at the relief and arousal coursing through you. You love it. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you watch him gulp down your milk and you’re amazed that he enjoys it. “Oh God baby.” You pant, feeling the relief of your milk draining and the way he sucks on your nipple, biting it now and then.

“Shit.” He gasps, feeling his cock throbbing. “It’s better than I expected.” He moans, switching to your other breasts and he knows this will become a favorite thing for him now. One hand slides down between your thighs and he is so fucking happy to find you wet.

“Dieter. Please.” You beg, needing more from him. It’s been so long since someone touched you. Not since Ollie. You rock down onto his fingers, loving how he rubs your clit while his lips suckle on your other breast. “Oh fuck, D. So good.” You whimper, caressing his shoulders.

“What do you want, baby?” He pulls off your nipple with a pop. “You want me to eat your pussy?” He groans at the thought. “Want to sit on Dieter’s face? Smother me with your cunt?”

You giggle breathlessly, “that’s the only way to shut you up?” You tease and he nods, “one of the few ways.” 

You laugh and he moves fast to shift, laying down and he pulls you over to hover over his face. “Shit baby. So good to me.” You gasp when he drags you down on top of his face.

The first taste is always amazing. Sliding his tongue though your folds as he pulls your hips down onto his mouth. Holding you there as he licks and then sucks on your clit.

You whimper, “baby. Oh baby.” You moan, grinding down onto his face. “So good. So fucking good.” You moan, loving how enthusiastic he is and he squeezes your ass, encouraging you to move. You do, rocking your hips down even more.

He doesn’t care that you two are on the couch or that he is throbbing in his pants. All he cares about is making you moan his name. He knows he will slide inside you as soon as you cum for him. He moans against your clit, loving how you are smothering him just like he wanted you to. Using him for your pleasure.

“Fuck. Fuck. It’s so good, baby.” You pant, lost in the pleasure of his mouth on you. You rock on top of his mouth, his nose pressing against your clit as his tongue pushes deep. “Fuck baby. Yes. Yes. Yes. Keep - keep going.” You beg, moaning his name.

He can’t breathe, but he doesn’t care. Too busy licking into you to feel your walls start to convulse around his tongue. Moaning when the first rush if your juices hit his mouth and your moan of his name almost makes him cum in his pants. Digging his fingers into your hips, Dieter doubles down on making you shriek his name.

You throw your head back as he makes you cum, moaning his name as you clamp down around his tongue. “Fuck baby. Fuck. I- I love you.” You whine when he works you through it and you whimper, lifting off of him when it becomes too much.

Panting like he was the one who had cum, Dieter licks his lips, completely pussy drunk as he caresses your side. Enjoying the boneless way you collapse on top of him as you try to catch your breath. “I love you. Fuck, you’re my new favorite meal.”

You inhale deeply, shifting off of him and you waste no time in tugging his shirt off of him. “Baby. I want to see all of you.” You tell him, tossing the ragged shirt away and you pull his sweats down to expose his cock. “Holy - that’s what you got?” Your eyes are wide at the girth and you wrap your fingers around him.

Dieter groans, bucking his hips and biting his lip in pleasure. “Fuck, is that not enough?” He gasps out. Normally women have no issue with his size but maybe your Ollie was hung like a horse.

“Not enough? Dieter, baby, I’m gonna feel you tomorrow.” You assure him, “I’m gonna need - wow. You might have to get some lube.” You admit and you start to pump him, in awe that your fingers don’t touch. You know it’s been so long since you’ve had sex and he is thick. You’ve always preferred girth over length anyway. “You’re big.” You promise him, leaning in to flick your tongue over the leaking slit.

He preens at your praise, eyes rolling back in his head at the feel of your tongue. “I’ve got lube.” He promises, reaching down and cradling your jaw. “Use it all the time, jerking off thinking about you.” He’s not ashamed of masturbating while thinking of you. “Baby let's go to the bedroom. You can ride me if you want more control.”

You want to suck his cock but you know you’ll have plenty of time to do that later. Right now, you need him inside of you. Releasing his cock, you pick up the baby monitor and stand up, smirking as you make your way to his bedroom. He’s scrambling to get his sweatpants off and you disappear down the hall, throwing over your shoulder, “don’t keep me waiting, Bravo.”

“Shit.” He hisses, eager to chase after you. Noticing that you are headed to his bedroom and not your own. “I’m coming baby, fuck.” He watches your ass shake as you sway your hips. “Gonna buy you the biggest fucking house I can find.”

You giggle, setting the monitor down on the nightstand and you gasp when Dieter’s hands grab your hips, pulling you back into him. You quickly spin and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his. “I love you.” You murmur against his mouth, his hard cock pressing into your stomach.

“I love you too.” Dieter moans softly, sliding his hands down and squeezing your ass. “Do you- do you need me to wear a condom?” He asks, sure that you aren’t wanting to get pregnant so soon after having your son. It wasn’t like you two had discussed birth control.

“No. I- I got an IUD put in. Figured they might as well do it while I was there and it wasn’t painful. I’m clean too. Not been with anyone since Ollie.” You promise and wonder if he’s clean. You don’t know when he slept with someone last. Maybe after you arrived. You don’t know. It’s not like it was your business when you were just his nanny.

He nods. “I uh, I haven’t been with anyone since Rosie has shown up. I’m clean.” He promises, eager to slide inside you and feel you without a barrier. “I didn’t want to do that kind to shit around her. Give her a good example. Don’t want her to be like me.”

You cup his cheeks, “you’re a good father and she’s gonna be just fine. You’re doing a good job.” You remind him, leaning in to kiss along his jaw. “Come on baby, you want me to ride you?” You ask and he nods. You let go of him and he walks over to his nightstand to grab the lube while you kneel on the bed. When he’s laying down, you grab the bottle and squirt some into your hand, wrapping your fingers around his cock to coat him before you swipe your fingers through your folds to make sure you’re slick enough. “Fuck, you’re gonna stretch me out.” You tell him as you straddle him.

“Want to see it.” Dieter pants, chest heaving as he watches you position his cock at your entrance. Moaning your name as you start to sink down on him, he can feel his entire body light up in pleasure at the hot clutch of your cunt. “I love you. I fucking love you.” Dieter cries, his fingers digging into your thighs as you slowly take him deeper, watching your mouth drop open and loving the way you moan his name.

Your eyes close as you slowly sink down onto him. He’s so thick, it stings, but you like that. It’s been so long since you had sex and this is the man you love. Your heart pounds in your chest as your thighs meet his, his cock fully inside of you, and his fingers sink into your flesh. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” He grunts and you giggle, leaning down to kiss along his jaw. “I fucking love you too.” You murmur, licking along his neck until you are biting his earlobe so you can give yourself a moment to adjust to him.

He whines, unable to stop himself from lurching up in pleasure. “Oh did you like that?” You giggle breathlessly, making him moan and turn his head so you can do it again. 

“More baby, fuck. Want you to mark me up.” He begs, so starved for attention that he needs to drown in it. His hand squeezes your ass again and it takes concentration to not urge you to move, your walls fluttering so deliciously around him.

You love how desperate he is for you. Biting down on his earlobe again and his cock twitches inside of you. You take pity, finally feeling comfortable, and you shift, rocking on his cock while you nibble on his ear, whispering “you’re mine. I’m gonna make sure everyone sees it.” You smirk as you kiss down his neck, sucking and biting on his skin.

“Fuck yes, I’m yours, I’m yours.” Dieter chants, rocking his hips up to chase your cunt when you lift off of him. Hating even the brief few seconds where he’s not buried inside your warmth. “All yours baby.” He groans, closing his eyes at the pure bliss of being able to touch you, to tell you what he’s thinking without worrying about offending you. “Gonna marry you. Give you everything.” He gasps out.

You moan, “I’m yours too. Been yours since I moved into this house. I’m gonna be your wife.” You promise and he groans, hands caressing your back. You kiss his collarbone and shift back, making his cock sink deeper and you grab his hands to help you balance as you ride his cock. “Fuck. Yes. God, so good. So good inside of me.” You ramble, squeezing his hands as you start to pick up the pace.

“God, fuck, your pussy is gold.” His toes curl and he loves how you start to bounce on his cock. Making your tits away heavily and he watches with them unabashed lust. “So fucking gorgeous.” He pants. “Can’t wait to see you pregnant, riding my cock.”

“One day.” You promise with a grin, breathless from how good this feels. You let go of his hands, leaning back to grab his knees, and you grind down onto his cock, hitting just the right spot to make you gasp. “Fuck, baby. Oh my - I’m - it’s gonna make me cum.” You confess, reaching down to rub your clit.

Dieter frowns and slaps your hand away, pouting up at you. “Let me.” He insists, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbing a tight circle over the bundle of nerves while you bounce on his cock. “Fuck baby, cum, please cum. I’m gonna -“ he hisses. “Not gonna last. Too fucking tight.” Your walls clenching down around him every other bounce is getting to be too much and he grits his teeth, praying he lasts long enough for you to soak his cock.”

Your moans are getting breathier as you struggle to breathe from the pleasure. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Dieter. I’m gonna - oh!” You moan, clamping down on his cock and soaking him, his thumb still working your clit until your thighs are shaking. “Cum for me.” You beg breathlessly, wanting to feel it as you convulse on top of him from your orgasm.

You don’t have to say anything else. His entire body is aching to cum, gripping your hips harshly as he starts to thrust wildly up into your body. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shiiiiiiiiiit.” Dieter whines, burying his cock half a dozen more times before his back is bowing and he is crying out your name, filling you with hot spurts of his seed.

You pant, collapsing onto his chest as his cock twitches inside of you, and you kiss along his neck. Unable to speak, you enjoy the aftermath of your orgasms. The connection you feel to Dieter has you on cloud nine. He’s a good father and a good man, despite what the paps print. He’s changed for his child and that makes you love him more. “Good?” You ask breathlessly, hoping he enjoyed it as much as you did.

“So fucking good.” Dieter’s eyes are closed and his expression is one of pure relaxation. Enjoying the way you feel on top of him. “God, you’re spending the night right here. Every night from now on.” He slides a hand up and down your back, enjoying the feeling of your slick skin under his palm. “Now we just need the kids to sleep through the night.”

“Soon. They are getting better. And you want another one to keep us awake?” You tease, giggling when his cock twitches inside of you. 

“I do.” He promises and you caress his cheek, leaning back to look into his eyes. “Me too. One day.” You lean in to softly kiss his lips, knowing you want this man to be your husband, to be everything. **** 

“Diet, babe. Can you get me that - shit.” You hiss after you feel the baby kick your ribcage. 

“Bad word mama.” Rosie points at you and you nod, “sorry, love. Mama needs to sit down.” You tell the three year old. Ollie comes over to sit down on the sofa next to you, his small hand on your belly as he leans in to talk to the baby in your belly. Rosie follows suit, wanting to do what her brother is doing. 

“Hello baby. It’s me. Your big brother-” 

“and sister.” Rosie adds as she leans in to press her ear to your stomach. You smile, tears in your eyes and look up to see Dieter walk into the living room. 

“You called baby?” He asks, paint splattered all over him from painting the new nursery. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry. Can you- can you get me some ice cream?” You bite your lip, knowing he’s been run ragged with your cravings.

Dieter grins, shoving his hand through his paint flecked hair, although he teases that the gray is because of you and the babies. “What kind of ice cream do you want, babe?” He strides over and rubs your bump before dropping a kiss on your lips. “Rocky road or are you wanting that cheesecake strawberry swirl?” He knows you will probably text him with more cravings, but he doesn’t mind. You are carrying his baby and you get what you want.

You smile at him, loving how flustered he looks when he has to go get your cravings, and you run your fingers over the kids’ heads before they look up at Dieter. 

“Can we have ice cream, daddy?” Rosie asks, that pout she definitely got from Dieter on her face. 

Oliver nods, “yes! Vanilla.” 

Rosie shakes her head, “chocolate!” 

You giggle and look at your husband, “I’ll have rocky road. Guess it’s an ice cream day.” You say and the kids cheer, excited to have ice cream.

“Vanilla, chocolate and rocky road.” Dieter nods, smiling down at the kids. He could never deny them much and while they would be considered spoiled, they were very well behaved. “Oh-“ he snaps his fingers. “Before I forget. The management agency called. They found another renter for the house and said that the repairs for the house were minimal, just paint to freshen up.” 

True to his word, he had bought you a house, deeded it in your name and hired a management company to handle the day to day issues and repairs. All of the profits were deposited into a bank account that was solely yours, even though you had access to everything of Dieter’s. “So that’s a weight off before the baby comes.”

The money going into that bank account is going to pay for the kids’ college. You won’t use it for yourself, not when you are happily married to Dieter. “Yes. Glad they managed to find another tenant.” You smile, reaching for his hand to kiss the back of it. 

“Daddy!” Oliver rushes over to him after shifting off of the sofa. 

“Yeah, buddy?” Dieter groans as he bends over to pick him up. 

“Can I come? To get ice cream?” He asks and Dieter nods, “of course.” You smile, loving how close Oliver and Dieter are. You adopted Rosie and he adopted Oliver not long after you were married. It felt natural and meant to be. Your little family, complicated but perfect. 

“We will be right back. Rosie, you wanna come?” Dieter asks and she shakes her head, climbing onto the sofa. 

“I wanna stay with mommy.” You pull her close, “we can watch our show while the boys are out.” You tell her in a playful whisper and she grins. 

“We will be back soon.” Dieter promises and you smirk at him, “after ice cream, the kids need to nap. Mommy needs ‘nap time’ too.” You say to Dieter and he smirks back at you, “what mommy wants, mommy gets.” He promises, knowing he wants you to moan his name while the kids are asleep. From Rosie getting shoved into his arms on a random day, to having a family with a baby on the way. Dieter never imagined being a family man but now, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo imagine #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo the bubble

[hookhausenschips]

Dad!Hook Headcanon

AEW Masterlist

Word Count: 1,317

Author's Note: I am definitely going to make this a series, like adventures with mini senerchia or something like that so stay tuned

The day after All In, you and Tyler had celebrated the night before since he had won his championship back from Jack.

You both were too eager to even think of using a condom, thank god for birth control. Right?

Not thinking much of it when it was now October a couple days after WrestleDream and you had still yet to get your period

There’s no way you were pregnant, although you hadn’t wrestled since the Dynamite after All In due to a slight wrist sprain you didn’t have any morning sickness

That night at Rampage waiting for Tyler to come back from his match your phone rang, it was your mother

“Y/N why am I having dreams of being a grandmother again?” She asked straight away, “Wow Hi mom nice to hear from you too. I’m doing great thanks for asking.” you replied. “Cut the shit little miss. I know it's not your brother again or your sister, So the only one left out of my children is you.”

You reassured your mom that you were in fact NOT pregnant, even though you are in your early 20s she still scared you

But as the days went on the thought continued to eat at you.

So here you stood in your locker room before Dynamite with Skye, Kris, WIllow, and Julia all with you for moral support as you took the six tests you bought. Can’t be too sure.

Willow was grinning, “Could you imagine how cute your guy’s babies would be if it is positive?” The rest all joining in gushing as well

You sat there on the floor in front of the table that held the fate of your future.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP* The alarm on your phone signaling the timer was now finished. 

You looked at the girls slowly feeling the anxiety start to flood your system

Yeah you and Tyler had talked about kids but not too in depth, you both wanted them but now? Not even at the peaks of your careers, were you ready to be parents?

Taking a deep breath you stood up and flipped over the first test.

Your heart hammered against your rib cage, you blinked several times to make sure you were reading it right ‘POSITIVE” it read in bold letters. 

You flipped all the others and they read the same. You are pregnant,

You turned towards the girls feeling overwhelmed with emotion holding up one of the many tests

They all gasped reading the test before crowding around you hugging you

Words of love and encouragement were uttered between them towards you

You shoved all the tests at the bottom of your suitcase before heading off to tell your bosses

They were elated to hear the news, congratulations flew around the room

You would figure out a way to be written off of tv until after the baby was here

You had asked that they not tell anyone yet especially Taz or Tyler, you wanted to surprise the two

Thankfully that weekend was the weekend you were flying back to New York with Tyler for a little get together with some of his family

That Friday before you flew out you went and bought the things you needed for your announcement

Over the course of your relationship you had grown close to Tyler’s family especially his cousins. 

You had informed one of his cousins, Laila, about the news and asked if she could help out with filming the announcement. Of course she had agreed.

There you stood in Taz’s backyard holding three boxes that held your surprises

Laila was ready inside at the kitchen island as you asked Tyler, his mom, and Taz if you all could talk

Joining you inside Taz was the first to notice the boxes with their names on them

“Christmas come early ranuncolo?” (buttercup)

Smiling nervously you nodded, “Something like that. You can open them,”

His mother was the first to open her’s. Reading the card first as Taz and Tyler opened theirs as well

Tyler stood silently as he read what the little onesie said ‘future sparring partner’ each box held a positive pregnancy test

His mother was next, she gasped seeing the test and the onesie that read ‘move I’m here for grandma’s cuddles and cooking’

Taz chuckled as he felt tears come to his eyes as he read what his said ‘future ftw mini champion’ and a shirt that said ‘soon to be grandpa’

“Are you serious?” Tyler spoke as his eyes went back and forth from his box, his parents, then you

You nodded smiling

He rushed over to you, picking you up and kissing you before cheering, “I’m going to be a dad!”

His mother and father came over to hug you both and congratulate you

“You two are young but I know that little one will be in good hands. I guess I don;t have to wait until I’m gray now to be a grandpa.” Taz said after hugging you and patting his son on his shoulder

“You are turning gray darling.” His wife replied as we all laughed

Soon enough you told the whole roster, they all were overjoyed at the thought of the AEW family growing

You even called Cody and Brandi to tell them since they were one of the huge reasons why you joined AEW

Once it came time for the scan and knowing the baby’s gender, you trusted the results to Kris and Willow

Your gender reveal was definitely one of a kind, your very own wrestling match to determine the gender with the whole roster and company present before Collision

The winner would get the belt  and once the bell was rung the ring posts would burst with streamers and colored powder

You were very amused seeing the set up

The winner was announced and as you and Hook stood in the ring with them when the ring erupted.

IT’S A BOY!!!!

You cried tears of joy as Tyler embraced you, you didn’t care if it was a boy or girl when asked in the pre gender reveal video you were just happy to have a healthy baby with the man of your dreams

Your baby shower was of course wrestler themed, you had to incorporate it

The nursery was put together in no time and you were in love with it

Tyler wouldn’t let you help claiming you were doing enough just by carrying your guy’s baby the least he could do was put up the nursery

He was like that all throughout your entire pregnancy

Due date was soon approaching and you were ready for baby bear to get out

You couldn’t lay comfortably anymore and the past month felt like your rib cage was his jungle gym

Soon enough your water broke the night before your due date, May 24th 2024.

You were in labor for 16 hours, and you were pissed

You threatened Tyler that he wouldn’t get to touch you after your son was born, it was his fault you were in this much pain to begin with was your logic

At 10:28 pm, your little bundle of joy was welcomed into the world

He had a head full of hair and Tyler’s eyes

He was beautiful, you couldn’t stop crying as the nurses placed him on your chest, you felt so many emotions flow through you

After awhile you looked and Tyler to see him crying, you smiled at him gesturing him to join you on the bed

“You want to hold your son?” you whispered, he nodded and held his arms out as you placed the baby into his arms.

You swore you couldn’t fall more in love with Tyler but at that moment seeing him talk to his son; y/s/n, and cuddle him, you could've sworn heaven was here on Earth in that moment.

Join my taglist to be notified of future works!

Hook Taglist: @shawtys-things, @gethooked, @hope4more

#aew #aew wrestling #aew dynamite #aew rampage #aew imagine #x reader #aew hook #hook aew #x black!fem!reader #x black fem reader #tyler cole senerchia #tyler senerchia #hook 730 #730 hook #730hook #handsome devil hook #hook x reader #send hook #hook imagine #hook #aew hook x reader #aew hook imagine #aew x reader #aew hook x black!reader #hook nation rise #hookhausen's chips #hookhausens chips #headcanon

[ingravinoveritas]

What do you make of David sayin he’s an ally, not an active participant (in queer subcultures)?

Did he come out as straight? I’m not sure anyone has ever asked him directly, not that he needs to give any explanations, I’m just curious because he gives off such a queer vibe even when he’s been married forever.

https://www.attitude.co.uk/culture/david-tennant-on-the-spice-girls-spiceworld-movie-was-being-developed-before-they-even-released-a-single-459815/

Oh, my Asks/DMs have been blowing up over this one. I did have a chance to read this interview with David (is it me, or is he doing nonstop press lately?) and...wow. Definitely enjoyable, and noticeably more unhinged/queer than most of his other interviews (which makes sense, given that Attitude is an LGBTQ-focused publication). But let's get a screenshot up of the most talked about bit, so we can discuss:

Obviously there is a lot going on here, so I'm just going to go with what stood out to me most. I don't think there is anything in the world less surprising than David naming bears first, given certain preferences of his (which I've discussed several times previously on my blog).

What's really interesting though is that the question was asking about queer subcultures, but all of the ones David listed are used primarily (AFAIK, though someone please do correct me if I am wrong) in mlm/gay male relationships. "Queer" can be many things, after all--gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, ace--and yet when David heard "queer subcultures" he specifically went for the mlm/gay ones, and that definitely feels like an interesting choice.

The second thing that I felt was worth discussing is that a lot of the reactions I've seen to this is people saying how adorably clueless David is, or how "he's a little confused, but he's got the spirit." And I'm sort of perplexed by this because we are talking about an almost 53-year-old man here, and I believe he knows damn well what all of those terms/subcultures are.

It's been brought to my attention (from what I would consider a very trustworthy source) that David is not at all as technologically illiterate as he pretends to be. Instead, it's actually part of a persona that he puts on to avoid dealing with issues that would arise from people knowing he is online. I had an inkling of this just from Georgia saying David was the one who set up all the equipment for when they filmed Staged at home (because why would such a task be put in the hands of someone who is hopeless with technology?). But having this confirmed also aligns with David creating a fake personal assistant in the early days of his career so he wouldn't have to fulfill certain social obligations, and to put a barrier between his real self and the world.

So why, then, wouldn't the same pattern possibly apply here?

I know there also tends to be this image of David as a "bumbling, goofy dad" type, and that's definitely part of him and what makes him so charming. But I don't think he is a fool, either--especially not after listening to him talk about Shakespeare or politics or anything else at length--and I think he certainly knows how to answer these types of questions. I think David is more than clever enough to give answers that are cheeky but not revealing, because he knows the purpose of all this is to promote the BAFTAs, not to be a deep, probing exposé on the life and times of David Tennant.

Which then brings me to the big, gay elephant standing in the middle of the room--a.k.a., "I'm an ally rather than an active participant." (Again...so many interesting word choices going on here, and none of it feels like an accident.)

Going back to what I mentioned about the focus of these interviews, I'd like to point out one notable thing that David himself said in the Radio Times interview earlier this week:

This, I think, sums up what we are seeing in all of these interviews: The version of David that he feels is safe to present to the world. He makes it clear as well that he is not going to reveal areas of his personal life while up on stage, and I would say that the same thing applies to these interviews. (It also speaks volumes that in the year 2024, the version of himself he feels safe presenting in these interviews is one who fully knows what bears and twinks--sorry, twinkies--are.)

So no, I don't think David is coming out as straight. I don't think he's coming out as anything, in fact, because he knows these interviews are not the place for that to happen. And I think that saying he is an ally but not an active participant makes the most sense as an answer for a public interview, but neither that nor being in a straight-passing relationship necessarily makes him any less potentially queer.

To reiterate what I said above, there is no one way to be queer. For some people, being queer absolutely can mean going to leather bars and participating in subcultures. But for other people, "queer" can mean something very different. It can mean being a Kinsey 2 just floating along doing your thing until you meet that one person who changes everything. The person who makes you go, "I've usually been more into this and not as much into this...but I'm definitely into you." It can mean being attracted to/falling for someone--a co-star, maybe?--that you never expected to feel that way about. And if David is queer, maybe that also means not shying away from anything, but at the same time not wanting to take the spotlight off the awards and the nominees celebrating one of the most important nights of their lives.

Those are my thoughts on the Attitude interview and David's answers, at any rate. Happy as always to hear from my followers with your takes. Thank you for writing in! x

#achioteandlime #unforgivablengk #reply post #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #BAFTAs 2024 #attitude magazine #interview #i don't know why people would expect him to say 'I'm screwing Michael Sheen on the side' in a random interview #but it seems like anything less than that means it can't be true #also 'not an active participant' is like the most bottom thing he could have possibly said #there's something slutty in the state of Denmark #and not beating the allegations #and it's David Tennant #let people be who they are #bisexuality #thoughts #discourse

[rallamajoop]

Some statistics on Lucy and the odds of surviving (non-vampiric) blood transfusions

Because it’s Dracula-season again, and because I am absolutely that kind of nerd, I spent some time calculating the actual odds of Lucy surviving all those blood transfusions from unrelated donors. To summarise what I found up front: Lucy's odds aren't great, but they're still a lot higher than you might think.

Now, I’m not the first person ever to tackle this question, and having no medical qualifications whatsoever, I'm not the best person either. But figuring out the answer to my own satisfaction was a great excuse to learn a whole lot of fascinating stuff that took some digging to figure out, so (with the caveat that I am entirely open to corrections from real professionals) naturally now I want to share it.

The complete world history of attempted blood transfusions is way beyond scope for us here (you can find plenty of sources on it online if you’re curious). But as Stoker’s text aptly demonstrates, the science of blood transfusion had come a long way by the Victorian era – just not the means for doctors to reliably predict which transfusions would be successful, and which would simply kill the patient. The principle behind the basic A, B and O blood types wouldn’t be discovered until 1900 – 4 years after Dracula was published, and wouldn't become part of general medical practice for much longer – and the additional Rh-factors wouldn’t be discovered until 1939. In Stoker's day, doctors were still so far behind the ball some of them thought transfusing milk into people suffering blood loss was a good idea (yes, really). And though I'm focusing on blood groups here, it goes without saying there are plenty of other risks that come from letting any Victorian-era doctor open your veins.

That said, what the average person knows about how blood types work may not be all that much advanced today from what doctors knew in the 1890s. It’s easy to come out of Dracula thinking, “Wow, they gave Lucy blood from four different people? The odds all their blood types would matched hers must be minuscule!” (and a quick search of the web for this topic will find people asking exactly that). But there are several factors which make Lucy’s chances a whole lot better than they might look on paper.

(Image source)

For one thing, even though there are many different blood groups to worry about, some are much more common than others. If just one blood group accounts for half the population (which is actually true of some countries), then Lucy’s odds of hitting four donors with the same group just by chance would go way up.

But far more important is the fact that blood groups don’t have to be a 'match' to be compatible. If Lucy is one of the 2% of the British population with the blood group AB+, she’d be a universal recipient – theoretically capable of receiving blood from anyone without adverse reactions. Similarly, if any of her donors were O-, she’s in luck again, because that makes them a universal donor. If Lucy herself is O-, however, she’s in trouble: universal donors can donate to any other group, but they can only receive from other O-negs.

Confused? Time to get a bit more technical.

When receiving blood, your greatest enemy is your own immune system. Vital as all those immune cells are, they are not smart, and have no way of knowing that all this foreign blood suddenly flooding your system is friendly. If the don’t recognise those blood cells, they’ll attack them, bonding to their surface and causing cells to clump together and form clots which can clog up your arteries and kill you. Transfusing the wrong blood type can and likely will kill you.

The immune system identifies blood cells as intruders via specific antigens found on the cell’s surface. The most important antigens in blood matching systems are the A and B antigens, and secondarily the Rhesus antigens (marked + or -). Some people have all of these antigens (AB+), some have none (O- with the ‘O’ more literally indicating a ‘0’ or a null) and many have some but not all (A+, B-, O+, etc). Meanwhile, the immune system of the recipient body, much like your racist uncle, will attack most anything with distinguishing features it hasn't seen before (like I said, it’s not smart). A blood cell which is missing a familiar antigen will slip through, but a blood cell sporting an unfamiliar antigen will trigger a reaction. So the immune system of someone with B-type blood will have issues with any A-type blood you try and transfuse in, but will be just fine with B or O, since O lacks any antigens to mark it as an intruder.

Once you know what you’re looking for, A, B, AB and O type blood can be identified fairly easily, just by mixing blood or antibodies and watching the reaction. I’ve seen some suggestions that this may have been understood even to some of the better-informed doctors in Victorian times: when unsure if a transfusion would be safe, they could try transfusing just a small amount of blood, watch for a bad reaction, and continue only if things look good. If you absolutely have to do a blood transfusion without any testing though, an immediate family member is your best bet: blood types can still differ among a family, but there’s a strong genetic component. (Sadly, this wouldn’t have been an option for Lucy, as her mother was already unwell, and would not have been considered a good transfusion candidate.)

Things get more complicated when you add in the Rhesus factor, which wasn’t discovered until some decades later, and for good reason: bad reactions to Rh+ blood develop in Rh- people only after that first transfusion. While A and B types might be like your racist uncle, the Rh factor is more like putting a dog on your basketball team: you’ll get away with it once, because you’ve brought in something so unexpected no-one’s made a rule about it yet (let alone bothered to come up with anti-dog basketball tactics). Unlike the standard A and B antigens, the immune system has to have 1) seen Rh+ blood, and 2) spent some time thinking about a good plan of attack before it’s ready to do anything about it – by which point the donor blood should be out of your system anyway. It's only the next transfusion after that where you can hit problems.

In practice, the Rh factor is of most concern to Rh- mothers carrying Rh+ babies. The first baby should be fine, but the delivery process can result in some mixing of the mother and baby's blood ‒ and that can leave her immune system primed to take offense at any future passengers of the Rh+ persuasion (why this apparently doesn’t also apply to A and B type babies in A or B negative mothers I’m not sure, but obviously the Rh-immune response works differently). With all today’s modern medical technology, this is something doctors can identify in expectant parents and manage with medication, but obviously they're still going to want to avoid transfusing Rh+ blood into an Rh- patient (especially if they’ve already got Rh+ kids).

Regardless, for our purposes, it’s only from the second transfusion that the Rh factor could trip you up. So could that be an issue for Lucy, if she’s getting so many transfusions? It's harder to find good info on exactly how long the Rh immune reaction takes to develop after the first transfusion, but most of what I could find suggests we’re looking at a period of weeks to months at least. So that’s good news for Lucy: we can ignore Rh factors when we’re calculating her odds of survival.

As a minor aside here, the standard eight blood types you can get by combining A, B and the Rhesus factor aren’t technically the only blood types out there. These three antigens matter most because people both with and without them are common in the broader human population, but a small minority of people are missing other antigens that the rest of us get as standard. European blood banks apparently also classify blood by a Kell factor, and people with anaemia and other conditions likely to require regular transfusions may be checked for several other potential Rh-like issues. A handful of people worldwide have blood classified as neither Rh+ or Rh-, but Rh-null – missing antigens common to 99.9% of the human population, and being in that class is a very mixed blessing. Blood donations from someone Rh-null can be used in recipients with rare blood types that would make them incompatible with almost any other donor. But if someone Rh-null ever needs a blood donation themselves, they’re in big trouble.

So, enough theory. What’s all this mean for Lucy’s odds of making it through 4 blood transfusions from unrelated donors?

Unsurprisingly, ratios of different blood groups vary a lot country to country and population to population, so I looked up ratios in modern Britain (Van Helsing is Dutch, of course, but blood groups in the Netherlands are similar enough to those in the UK that we’ll ignore that, just for simplicity). It’s possible these ratios have drifted since Victorian times, but figuring out how is so far beyond scope here we’re not going to worry about it. As discussed above, we’ll also ignore Rh factors – Lucy’s almost certainly never had a blood transfusion or a baby before, and everything happens far too fast for an Rh-immune response to kick in.

Alright. It’s statistics time!

We don't know Lucy's blood group, so any are possible. For each potential Lucy-blood-group, we can generate a list of blood groups which will be compatible donors (we'll call that list C(x)), and from that, we can calculate the probability that she'll be compatible with any randomly-selected donor. For Lucy to survive, we need her to survive 4 successive blood transfusions, so we’re raising that survival probability to the power of 4. Then to calculate her overall probability of survival, we multiply the survival rate by the odds she’s in that blood group, and add them together (no need to divide by the total population, that’s an easy 100%). So if we let n = number of transfusions and P(x) = probability a person is in blood group x, we get the following lovely equation:

(Yes, I know, I'm sorry ‒ someone out there is going to want to check my working, and I like to be transparent.)

And with that, (assuming I’m not just talking out of my arse with all those calculations), that suggests Lucy’s overall chances of surviving 4 different blood transfusions is about: (drum roll)... 27%. So, roughly 1 in 4.

The really savvy reader might notice that Lucy does not, technically, survive all four transfusions – she dies shortly after the fourth, so it’s conceivable that last transfusion was a mismatch. If we take the requirements down to where Lucy only needs to survive 3 transfusions, her odds go up to 34%, or closer to 1 in 3. Still not great, but given the sorts of crazy one-in-a-million coincidences all fiction is built on, that’s actually pretty reasonable. Even if you do factor in Rh compatibilities, we're still looking at around 21% survival rate after 4 transfusions, which are pretty decent odds in the world of Victorian medicine.

Do those odds sound a little high to you? Here’s something to keep in mind. On paper, Lucy’s odds of surviving even a single random-donor transfusion are only 65%. But given she survived that first transfusion, the odds go up that she’s in one of those near-universal blood groups, and they keep going up. Sure, every new transfusion has a new chance to kill you, but statistically speaking, every transfusion you survive marks you as someone who’s a little more likely to survive the next. So someone who's already survived 2 transfusions has a 76% chance of surviving a 3rd ‒ and if they do survive that 3rd, an 80% chance of surviving a 4th.

As another aside though, even after surviving four successive transfusions, the odds Lucy’s in that lucky AB universal-recipient category are still only about 10% (compared to 3% of the base population). Statistically, it’s still far more likely she’s in the A-group ‒ the second largest group in the UK, and who can receive blood from the other largest group (O), letting them receive blood from a whooping 86% of the population without issue. Aren’t statistics wonderful?

Oh, all right – I’ll stop with the maths. We’ve made our point here.

Now, we could still point out that, for a supposedly-experienced physician, Stoker's Van Helsing seems pretty blase about the possibility his blood transfusions could backfire horribly ‒ but then, Lucy's already on death's door each time he resorts to asking for volunteers. He's doing the only thing that might save her life (and it does, until it doesn't).

To conclude, no-one is going to tell you Dracula makes sense. This is a book which offers no explanation for why Dracula should just happen land in England on the same town where his solicitor’s fiancée just is taking a holiday, let alone the rest of it. And Stoker had no way of knowing Lucy’s actual odds of surviving such a very Victorian procedure. But that whole blood transfusion sequence is far from being the least probable thing in the book. 

#Dracula #Lucy Westenra #meta #Dracula Daily #blood types #blood tranfusions

[miyuhpapayuh]

sixteen.

Zora, the sassy sagittarian, turned twenty nine or twenty fine, as Nique corrected.

Having stuffed their faces full of delicious food, from several different houses the day prior, her mom and sisters rounded her up for a home cooked breakfast plus mimosas, took her shopping, got her nails and toes done, got her hair redone, all paid for by Leon. She was being pampered to the fullest.

She was currently being driven to her surprise of the night, about to drive her loving boyfriend up a wall with how much she asked, are we there yet?

“I'm gonna turn around and go home,” he playfully threatens, earning a swat to his arm.

“Stop it! I'm just excited, that's all.” She says, crossing her heeled feet.

“I know, I know.” He nods, pulling into the lot, hopping out and helping her out as well.

“Aw, this place is cute!” She says, admiring the building in front of them. It was quaint and draped in deep blue, the name of the poetry club, Speak Easy, is lit up in gold cursive.

“Glad you like it,” he smiles, holding out his hand for her to take, as he leads them inside and over to the round red acrylic table that seems to sit underneath a spotlight. She hums to herself.

The inside was beautiful, the walls are black and the floors, a deeper blue, giving off an almost velvet effect as the steps to the lower level sparkle back at her.

A waitress comes and sits a glass of white wine down in front of her, and a glass of rum in front of Leon, before leaving them alone again.

“What? Is she psychic or something?” She whispers, making him laugh.

“No, baby– even though that would be cool,” he nods, “when making the reservation, it asks for your favorite drink and dessert. You can order something else, but they start with those.”

“That's so cute,” she dances in her seat. “So a slice of red velvet cake is gonna meet me before we leave here, tonight?”

“Absolutely, beautiful.” He answers, leaning in to kiss her lips.

She swoons, just staring at him once he pulls away. He does the same with her.

“You look stunning, tonight. Like a doll.” He compliments, twirling a strand of her curled hair around his finger.

“Thank you! I feel like a doll,” she giggles, “I don't get all done-up like this unless it's an occasion.”

“And an occasion, it is. I pulled out one of my best fits for you, girl.” He chuckles.

“Aw, and you look so good in it!” She compliments, rubbing his chest.

Thank you, baby,” he says, leaning in for another kiss. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you!”

“Welcome, welcome. As always, we appreciate everybody in the house tonight for supporting us. We've got a lovely group for you tonight, some new, some familiar faces. Our first performer is heading our way, so get ready to be wowed and remember, hold your applause til the end.”

The lights dim to a soft pale yellow, as the first person sits upon the stool to share their poetry piece. Spice is her name, and she embodies it perfectly with her ginger hair.

“Honey with spice,

Simple, yet divine.

Wild, but grounded.

Messy, and worth it.

A woman of many shades,

Personas,

Layers.

Who I am is for me to define,

And for you to uncover.”

“Wow, she's good.” Zora comments, as they all clap for Spice. “I like how short and sweet it was.”

He nods in agreement, his nerves beginning to get to him. He smiles at her. “Y-yeah, she did good.”

The next performer by the name of Bleu takes the stage, and the lights dim to a pale blue.

“In spite of it all,

I came, saw and conquered.

In spite of it all,

I lived,

I loved,

And I lost.

In spite of it all,

I have no regrets.

If I could go back and double it.

Triple it.

In spite of it all,

I'd still tell my younger self

to love just as hard as he did,

And my future self

to love harder.”

More applause, and Zora’s sliding her hand into Leon's clammy one, her nose wrinkling up as she softly laughs.

“You okay?” She asks.

“Yeah, just wanna make sure you're having a good time.” He answers, brightening the smile on her face.

“The best time.” She reassures him with a squeeze to his hands. “I know I crack my jokes about you being a walking poem, but I like being in the places you love to be in.. seeing you in your zone, too. It's beautiful to me.”

Moved to tears, he clears his throat and wipes his face. Her hands cover his own, while she gazes at him.

“I've got another surprise for you.” He says, before giving her another kiss and disappearing from the table, leaving her alone and confused.

“What?” She quietly asks, before looking around at the other tables, really feeling like she was underneath a spotlight now.

Turning her attention back to the stage, she takes a sip of her forgotten wine, almost spitting it out as Leon taps the mic.

“What??” She whispers again, her eyes popping out of her head.

She had just gotten contacts, and she knew she was seeing correctly.

He was performing?? She finally gets to see him do his thing, on her birthday?? Was he gonna perform a piece for her??

She had so many questions that were about to be answered, as the lights dimmed to deep orange, completely moving her to tears.

“In all the ways,

I dream of you.

You're a goddess.

Ethereal.

I happily kiss the ground you walk on,

Pluck every flower just for you.

My muse.

My passion is you.

The most beautiful woman to

ever walk the earth.

To ever cross my mind.

Damn, you’re so fine.

In all the ways,

I dream of you.

The light,

And the dark.

My sun,

And my moon.

You shine brighter

Than the stars.

The blank space

In between stanzas.

A resting space,

A much needed break.

I lose my senses

When it comes to you.

Forgetting how to speak

Is only the beginning of

Just how frazzled you make me.



In all the ways,

I dream of you.

Bold,

Brilliant,

Beautiful.

Captivating,

Enamoring,

Mesmerizing.

I'm hooked on you.

Absolutely,

Always and,

Forever.”

The applause seems to double in volume as he finishes, and a single slice of red velvet cake with a candle in it is sat down in front of her, as everyone sings happy birthday to her.

“What?!” she yells for the third time.

Grabbing the napkin from the table, she dabs at her eyes and looks around in disbelief, feeling like she was living in a dream.

“Make a wish, sweet stuff.” He says from the mic, as he was still on the stage.

Taking a second to think, she clasps her hands together and blows the candle out, earning another wave of applause that makes her squeal.

As soon as he makes his way back to Zora, she damn near clings to him, giving him all the hugs and kisses she could possibly give.

“That was… that was the most beautiful, sweetest thing ever.” She whimpers, wiping her tears away for the second time tonight.

“I'm so glad you loved it, cause I was so nervous!” He chuckles, lacing their fingers together and kissing her lips, repeatedly.

“It was perfect,” she says in between kisses, “you are the sweetest man!”

“I do my best for you.”

Listening to the rest of the poetry pieces, sipping on her wine and eating the most delicious cake, Zora was on a high for the rest of the night.

“Best birthday ever.” She says, swishing the soapy bubbles around in the bath he drew for her.

“Ever?” He asks, tracing a random pattern on her other arm as he sits behind her in the spacious tub.

“Ever,” she repeats. “Tonight was something out of a movie! I felt like the only woman in the world.”

“You're the only woman in my world. That's for sure.” He says, making her giggle and welcome the many kisses to her neck and cheek.

“I love you, sweet stuff.”

“I love you too, sugar foot.”

She never even considered “birthday sex” to be a thing, but the way he put it down had her working her brain overtime on what to cook him for his birthday, which happened to be the next morning.

A day and a year apart, she had to admit was pretty wicked.

“Happy dirty thirty, Avery!” She'd greeted early this morning, pressing kisses to every part of his face.

His baritone laugh sounded through the room as he wrapped her up in his arms, “thank you, sweetheart.”

“I made breakfast!” She says, excitedly jumping up from his bed and into the hallway, causing him to sit up and rub his eyes, and properly stretch.

Coming back in with a plate of strawberry crepes, her grin turns cheesier at the look on his face.

“Look at this!” He exclaims, taking the plate from her. “I've always wanted to try my hand at these.”

“I knew it,” she laughs. “I've only made them like one other time, and it took me like an hour! So try them and tell me what you think, please.”

He nods and takes a bite. Then, another bite. And one more, his hums of appreciation cause her to cover her face.

“Damn, this is delicious!” He says, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

“Yeah, you really like ‘em??” She asks, watching him continue to eat.

“Girl, you finna watch these disappear!” He chuckles, pulling her into his lap, where she takes over feeding him the delicious breakfast.

“Is this how you feel when you cook for me?” She asks, looking down at his handsome face.

“Super accomplished? Hell yeah,” he wholeheartedly nods, making her giggle.

“Did you taste 'em?” He asks, holding a piece out for her.

“I did, but I'll just have one more bite.” She obliges, sighing at the sweet and creamy taste.

Like he said, she watched him make the crepes disappear in record time. She clapped as he hit his victory dance, still seated.

Doing his best shimmy for her, the burst of giggles that hit his ears was another present for his day.

“I got you something,” she says, while they're standing hip to hip in the kitchen, washing the leftover dishes from breakfast.

“What is it?” He asks, nudging her once she starts to laugh.

“Let's finish up here, and you'll see!” She says, flicking soap at him. Of course he flicked some back, right on her nose.

Did the dishes get neglected for a soapy water fight that lasted for five minutes? Absolutely.

Did those five minutes turn into an extra thirty, as they went at it on the counter? Again. Absolutely.

Done with their own shenanigans for the time being, cleaned up and sitting in his living room, Zora sits the box in his lap, a huge smile stuck on her face.

“I don't know which one of us is more excited,” he cracks, the box making a snap sound as he pops it open, finding a stack of gold, square rings— the coolest rings he's ever seen with his own two eyes.

“Woah,” he says, blowing out a breath.

“I originally went to buy you a new chain. Maybe some new studs, but then I saw these! And while you don't wear much jewelry, I thought it would be something of a statement piece to add to your wardrobe, ya know? B-but, if you don't like ‘em, I kept the receipt.” She says, folding her hands in her lap.

“Oh, I'm keepin’ these!,” he laughs, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Thank you. These are super fucking cool, babe. Ima put ‘em on now, just cause!” He announces, pulling them out and sliding them on his middle and ring fingers, holding them up to watch them shine back at him.

Zora's chin is in her palms now, watching him enjoy his gift was the highlight of her day.

“You're welcome, babe.” She responds, pulling his hand towards her, wanting to watch them shine, too.

“Oh, one more thing!’ She says, before hopping up and grabbing the box she hid on the other side of his couch. The complete confusion on his face was priceless.

“How long was that there?” He asks.

“About a week?,” she pauses to do her mental math, before nodding, “yeah, about a week.”

“I’m surprised I missed this big ass box,” he chuckles, making her shake her head.

“I’m glad you did miss it! What kind of surprise would that have been?” She asks with a laugh.

“She’s learning the premise, lord.” He kids, laughing as she snatches the box away.

“I guess I’ll just take this baby back, since you like to play games.”

“Alright, okay. Let’s relax, I was just kidding,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender, making her laugh and hand it back.

Just in case she tried any more funny business, he pulled the lid off the box to find a smaller box with the word Canon written on it.

“A camera? For real?!” He yells, opening it up to pull out the Canon EOS Rebel T7 DSLR Panasonic LUMIX FZ1000 I.

His jaw was on the floor and his mind was blown.

“I've had my eye on this one, girl.”

“I know.” She says, sitting back down beside him.

Unable to find the words, he just fondly shakes his head and stares at the camera, trying to figure out how to turn it on.

Once he does, he checks the battery and aims the camera at Zora, who covers her face.

“Come on, be the first picture to grace this, here camera! Let me see that beautiful face, Jean!” He says, pushing her shoulder with his free hand.

“Okay, okay,” she drops her hands, and he captures her natural mug. Looking back at the photo, he fondly shakes his head again.

“What,” she nudges him.

“You got me the coolest gifts ever. I don't know what to say, besides thank you. That feels inadequate.”

“The coolest guy ever deserves the coolest things ever, right?!” She exclaims, nudging him again.

“The coolest?” He asks, that boyish grin making her own cheeks burn as she nods.

“I'm glad you like your gifts, seriously. I know gift giving is your thing, and you're so thoughtful with yours.. I just wanted to live up to that, too.”

“Zora, let's not forget that you've painted me. Several times. The most thoughtful thing I've ever seen. Hell, you set the standard for me! We could do this all night,” he laughs, sitting the camera down on the coffee table and grabbing hands.

“Thank you. I love my gifts and I love you.”

“I love you too, and you're welcome.”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Zora was currently making dinner, and even though she insisted that they didn't have to get dressed up, she was back in her little black dress, since he ever so sweetly requested that she wear it for him, and he pulled out another one of his best fits for his favorite occasion.

“Never let an outfit go to waste, girl!”, he said multiple times today. She'd remember it for sure.

Coming into the kitchen, he does a spin for her as she whistles, “look at you, hot stuff!”

The killer smile he sends her way makes her face warm, a couple giggles escape them both as they awkwardly sway.

“There go those angry bees, huh?” He jokes, pulling her away from the stove to wrap her up in his arms.

“Babe,” she whines, “it's this cologne you've got on, too. My goodness, you smell so good!” She deeply inhaled, making him crack up.

“You told me to always keep a bottle of it near, so,” he shrugs, that smile still on his lips.

“Too much,” she comments, dropping her gaze to his suit. “You really have on a whole suit!”

“Yeah, I do!” He says.

“Even though we're not going anywhere,” she continues.

“Baby, we don't need to leave the house to get all dolled up!”

“No, I know! And don't take what I'm saying the wrong way. I just.. I just always felt there needed to be an outing attached, but I honestly feel less pressured, since it's just you here. I mean, you get my nerves going enough,” she rambles, and he just smiles and cuts her sentence off with a sweet kiss.

“If it feels extra, that's the point,” he cracks, pulling a smile from her. “Question. You don't think you look good, tonight? Cause I think you look absolutely gorgeous.”

“I do, yeah!” She answers.

“You don't think I look good?”

“Of course I do, Leon!”

“Okay, then! Our night on the town just happens to be inside my apartment, and that's okay. Right?”

“Yeah, it's perfect.” She corrects.

“That's what I like to hear. You don't even have to put those dangerous heels on!”

She scoffs a laugh. “Please! Ima go put ‘em on just for that! Dangerous heels.”

“Hey, you always complain about them hurting your feet!”

“Yeah, I be a lil sore but beauty is pain! Why do you think I have a headache every time I look at you?!”

“A-ha,” he dryly laughs, “very funny.”

“I thought so too, now go sit. Dinner’s ready.” She says, shoo’ing him out of his own kitchen.

Two glasses of white wine sit at his round table, along with a tealight candle in the center. Zora came and sat down two plates of piping hot food.

“Damn, this looks delicious babe. I gotta take a picture!” He exclaims, jumping up from the table to get the camera off the charger.

She softly laughs at the way he rushes back over and snaps a picture of her beautiful setup.

“Okay, okay. We can eat now!” He says, sitting back down.

“How many pictures is that, now?” She asks.

“Uh… five?”

“Yeah? I'm shocked there aren't more!”

“Well, technically there's only four, cause I had to retake one. It came out kinda blurry.”

“Still keep it,” she suggests.

“Yeah, maybe.” He says before they join hands to say grace.

Digging right into the stuffed chicken breast and potatoes, the same look he wore at breakfast is back tenfold, making her laugh and look away from him.

“Again, you finna watch this disappear.”

“Stop it, and tell me how lunch with your two favorite girls went.” She says, digging into her own plate.

“Well, I was missing my third,” he faux pouts, earning another smile out of her, “but lunch was great. I didn't realize how much we'd all missed out on in the last couple months!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Eryn was traveling to Florida and back on another business trip, ma was sick for a few weeks, and around the timeframe she gave me, I remember calling her and asking her if she was good, cause you just know when parents are tryna save face and act like their in tiptop shape. She had a cold the whole time.”

“My mama does shit like that, too. It's so frustrating, like let me help you!”

“She swore it would've disrupted my schedule, like she's not my mama. Fuck that job.”

“Yeah, fuck that job,” she repeats, laughing at the expression his face. “This really bothered you.”

“It really did!” He laughs, shaking his head. “But, she's promised not to do that anymore. We’ll see,” he sighs.

“Hold her to it,” she points her fork in his direction. “I do my mama like that, too. She be tryna slide outta her promises too, they think they're slick.”

“I agree. I need somebody to take her off our hands cause she's gonna turn us gray, not the other way around.” He half-jokes, making Zora crack up.

“Leave her be! Cause if a man does come around and scoop her up, you really ain't gon know where she at and how she’s doing.” She smirks, snickering at his stale expression.

“Anyway,” he says.

“I'm just saying! But, anyway.”

“Other than all of that, this has been a great birthday. I always pictured thirty in so many words, and grateful is all I really feel.” He says, reaching across the table for her free hand, meeting her bright smile with one of his own.

“I'm glad I could be a part of it, there's nothing I'd rather be doing than being here with you.”

Holding his tears this time, he gives her hand a squeeze to keep the mood light, even though she's tugging on his heartstrings like crazy.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Happy birthday.”

Changing out of their fancy clothes after their photo shoot, the two threw on their pjs and settled on the couch to watch their usual cartoons, along with bowls full of ice cream— his was cookie dough and her was brownie cheesecake swirl.

“Best way to end the day.”

“Yeah, getting sugar wasted?”

“Like the teenage me would,” he laughs, sitting his bowl down on the coffee table, pulling her into his lap, sideways.

“Was I too far away?” She asks, biting into a brownie chunk.

“Yeah, I still think you do it on purpose.” He says, snuggling right into her neck. She laughs and sits her bowl next to his.

“I do not!”

His muffled laughter sounds in response, then silence covers them as they sit and soak up the moment. Nothing but the sound of the tv in the background.

“I love you” is conveyed in light sweeps of his fingertips over her bare thighs. Nuzzles against her sweet spot. Her nails softly scraping against his scalp.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

“Shit,” he groans into her open mouth as she grinds on top of him, his hands on her hips, fingertips digging into her heated skin.

“Feels good, huh baby?” She moans, placing a hand on his chest, wrinkling his shirt in her grasp as she moves faster, the clap of her ass against his thighs giving her extra motivation.

“Good as fuck,” he smacks her ass, pulling her t-shirt up to bury his face in her chest.

His nips and licks to her sensitive flesh had her eyes rolling back. His groans vibrate off her skin, her own moans tangle between.

Her hands find his growing curls, tugging just to drive him wild. Both of his hands come down on her ass again, earning a gasp in return. Her arousal doubles, the squelching joining their sexual harmony.

“I fucking love you,” he groans, his head falling back against the cushions. Her ass is still smacking against his sticky thighs.

“I know,” she says with a smirk, pulling her t-shirt completely off. The dazed smile on his face made her throb against him.

Pulling him to her by his neck, she watches as he buries his face back into her chest. Her hands find his hair again, her bottom lip deeply bitten into as she continues dropping her ass on him.

“Fuck, baby..” his raspy groan sounds through her chest, her hips back in his firm grasp. He was close.

Pulling him up to face her, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pressing kisses all over his face.

“I love you,” she moans, “cum for me, baby..” she whispers, smiling at the way his eyes begin to roll back, her name falling from his lips like a prayer as he reaches his peak.

She kisses his parted lips, the way he's wildly rutting into her and grunting has her throbbing against him again.

“So fucking sexy, baby— shit,” she gasps, feeling her own peak creep up on her, “oh my god.”

“You cummin’, yeah?”

“Fuck-— yes!” She moans with her head thrown back, loving the way he grips her hips and takes over slamming her down on him.

Now, that's the best way to end the day.

@ghostfacekill-monger @soufcakmistress @honestpreference @starcrossedxwriter @thegifstories @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @abeautifulmindexposed @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @mauvecherie-writes @harmshake @sheabuttahwrites @cecereads209

#mochaff #miyuhpapayuh #poc writers #blackwriters #black romance #yahya abdul mateen ii #zora x leon #black!oc #black!reader #thick black oc

[pandorasword]

why am i like the only one rooting for chaeri and hongjoong 💀

can we get more chaejoong pretty please?

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

Chaeri's masterlist

「 Hey! As I said in other posts, my goal was to get a deeper look into their relationship too so thanks for asking, I'm gonna use this as a chance to do that! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it ♡ 」

A look through Chaeri and Hoongjoong's relationship

დ The party

To Chaeri, that could be called the event of the year. The party she would never give up attending, no matter what the conditions or time of year. Every year, all (or most) idols born in '98 would meet to party, and she, born in the last but one week of December, barely missed it. Actually, one of the main hosts of the event was her. Being among so many co-workers, free from cameras and paparazzi made her feel excited and free. It was early 2022 when yet another reunion was organised in one of Seoul's most discreet and exclusive hotels, which would welcome them all night long. Although she loved the occasion like few others, she was very moody that year. Her relationship with Jungkook had been over for years now, and despite the constant back and forth between them, that period seemed to have really put a stop to the whole situation. She couldn't blame him for dating other girls, she was in no position to do so yet it made her feel terribly uncomfortable. When he and the rest of the maknae line asked her if they could go with her to the party, even though they weren't part of the required age group, she told them not to follow her because she had a date to attend there. Not that she really did, she just wanted to make her ex-boyfriend feel the same way she felt. She should have known that a couple of hours after the party started, Jungkook and Taehyung would still show up. Saying she was angry was an understatement. Had they come to check on her and her hypothetical date?

You could call it a sign of destiny that Hongjoong was just a few steps away from her then. Chaeri's brain didn't take long to process what she was going to do next: They wanted to keep an eye on her during her date? Well, they were going to watch her date then

"Pretend to be my date" "What?" "Pretend to be my date" "Sure, I can... I can do that. But why?" "Does it matter?"

The night, a summary

჻ Seonghwa shocked ჻ Hongjoong shocked ჻ Seonghwa deciding to leave them alone, earning a glare from his captain ჻ "I'm sorry to take you off guard, I hope you don't feel forced to do this" - "Oh no, not at all. It's a pleasure to help you" ჻ JOONG ALMOST BOWED ჻ "Don't bow, you're my man tonight" ჻ His heart missed several beats in response ჻ "Your man should get you something to drink, to be worthy of that title" - "I see we are on the same wave"

჻ Alcohol and sparkling cocktails made things less awkward

჻ They ended up on a small sofa in the corner talking about this and that, without Chaeri feeling the need to let members of her group look at her

჻ "When you came three years ago to congratulate us during MAMAs, I thought I was dreaming" "It's just a feeling that every celebrity who's been in this industry for a while makes you feel" "Your reputation precedes you but at then I didn't think 'Wow Chaeri from BTS is here to congratulate me' but rather 'This beautiful and talented girl is smiling at me as if we've known each other all our lives' That's… that's what I felt."

჻ Was he trying to flirt? Definitely. Was he doing it on purpose? Absolutely not.

჻ "Oh Lord, this is my favourite song. C'mon, let's dance"

჻ Hongjoong trying to politely decline

჻ "You are dancing in front of thousands every day and you feel anxious about dancing with me?" - "Ok… but let's dance this one only"

჻ They danced all night long

჻ "So… this fake date thing extends beyond tonight?" "You want to be my man for a few more nights?" "I would never back down from helping a girl out." "Ah that's it, all about kindness" "All about kindness"

჻ All about kindness my ass

დ How the fake dates became not fake at all

჻ "Are you flirting with me?" "Would that be a bad thing?" "No." "Then yes, I'm flirting with you" "So brave of you, Hongjoong. I didn't think you were so bold." "There's a lot about me you don't know yet" "Show me then"

჻ "It's hot when you talk back" "Really? Many men find it intimidating" "Not the right men for you" "And you would be the one?" "You wish, don't you?"

჻ "I am quite sure that to make this more realistic we have to work harder" "What do you want to do?" "Kiss you"

჻ “You need to stop kissing me like you mean it; I’m going to read into things wrong and end up breaking my own heart” "Stop pretending, then" "Do you want us to put an end to it?" "Or maybe a start"

დ Media exposure

დ The first time BTS react to Chaeri and Hongjoong as a couple

audio on! ⃕

დ Hongjoong's first appearance on an award show after his relationship with Chaeri was made public, in which he was showered with congratulations

დ Ateez talking about everyday life with Chaeri

დ Chaeri and Hongjoong interacting on social media

#bts 8th member #ateez imagines #bts imagines #ateez scenarios #hongjoong x reader #bts eighth member #bts female addition #ateez fic #bts scenarios #bts addition #kpop female member #kpop female oc #kpop female addition #ateez #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #hongjoong #bts au fic #bts au #ateez au #ateez au fic #bts x reader

[foressfaction]

autism blast me on why you like toby

*Cracks knuckles*

he's literally me

Ok good day

No but for real ever since like 5th grade, (i was around 11???) i remember finding his story after very unmonitored internet access through DA (i was and still am addicted to DA) and after reading it, it was like, wow. Okay- thats really relatable. I struggled with severe family issues with the same problem of alcohol and gambling, along with also losing a sibling. I went through severe bullying and everything else what not, not to make it about me or anything but i didn't have much of an outlet at all, i never got into anime, fashion(basic fashion), never had many friends irl. I was already 'in the fandom' but didn't know much about him til i genuinely sat down and found it on accident while searching fandom tags. (back when kastoway actually posted there still)

I would literally stalk the acc man it was BAD. i always used him to vent and as an outlet, i loved the art style and my art would occasionally be influenced by it unconsciously. I would write and roleplay a ton and eventually developed my own take and interpretation. I find tons of comfort in anti-hero like characters and this fandom has been the only thing i ever felt welcomed in. And the only thing i seem to like as i am still not into much else but horror and cosplay. I wish i was my age now (19) back when the fandom was really booming. Where the nostalgic styles were around and the 'cringey' lol ask blogs (i would've been doing one dgmw)

I would've been a big hit back then but now its just harder to be known. (not that its my main purpose i just wonder how far i would've gotten when this fandom was more alive)

Moral of story, I've always related to him, i mean the guy quite literally gave me a reason to keep going? He inspires my aesthetic, my career (story making, film and writing) honestly if it wasn't for me stumbling across him..tbh I'd probably be normal LMAO but i would've taken a different route with my art and writing if...At all? He kinda kept me a reason to do everything so.

As i got older it only seemed to get worse tbh. Hell i own like 4 hoodies help me, its literally. I have i have

I have like a 10 page doc on JUST headcanons and a 30k word long rewrite i am not okay. Hes in my mind

He's in my ears

Hes in my eyes

He is in my tears

You would literally have to pry him out of my cold dead blue fingers.

I could go on but my brain literally died mid sentence. Mighy edit later jusy remond me omg typing is hard now, look wjay u did.

#creepypasta #ticci toby #toby rogers #slenderverse #foressfaction

[thefisherqueen]

I'm reading Letters from Watson's The three Garridebs as a bedtime story tonight. First things first - what even is this title?? *some research later* Oh, Garridebs is a last name, apparently. Wouldn't have guessed that. Yet another story title I will never be able to remember

It may have been a comedy, or it may have been a tragedy. It cost one man his reason, it cost me a blood-letting, and it cost yet another man the penalties of the law. I'm intrigued. They surely didn't still do blood-letting in the early 20th century? Or does this mean that Watson gets wounded in this case

I remember the date very well, for it was in the same month that Holmes refused a knighthood for services which may perhaps some day be described. I'm having a bit of trouble telling apart when Holmes wants attention and when he does not. He seems to thrive upon Watson's attention, and to immensely enjoy the attention he receives by acting Dramatic(TM), yet public praise or fame is to be avoided?

I only refer to the matter in passing, for in my position of partner and confidant I am obliged to be particularly careful to avoid any indiscretion. Partner, confidant, collegue, companion, intimate friend. In other words, 'you are so important to me'

Holmes had spent several days in bed, as was his habit from time to time It's been years since I spent an entire day in bed. I wonder if that means that I'm doing better, or if I'm just not allowing myself enough time to rest and recover from Life

"Have you ever heard the name of Garrideb?" I admitted that I had not. Same, Watson, same

"Why do you say that, Mr. Holmes?" I seemed to read sudden suspicion in those expressive eyes. "Your whole outfit is English." Mr. Garrideb forced a laugh. "I've read of your tricks, Mr. Holmes, but I never thought I would be the subject of them." Oh my. This man does not like to be deduced. I have a feeling he's going to be difficult

"Why did he ever drag you into it at all?" asked our visitor, with a sudden outflame of anger. "What in thunder had you to do with it? Here was a bit of professional business between two gentlemen, and one of them must needs call in a detective! Ah, here we have our trouble. I hope Holmes politely yet ruthlessly will tell him to shut it and keep his calm

"And now, sir, since you are here, we had best have a clear account from your own lips. My friend here knows nothing of the details." Mr. Garrideb surveyed me with not too friendly a gaze. "Need he know?" he asked. Not even an actual king could pry these two apart, sir, you better not even try. They come Together

He made his money in real estate, and afterwards in the wheat pit at Chicago wheat pit: a market or exchange where wheat stocks are bought and sold (merriam-webster dictionairy)

one day I had a visit from the old man, and he was tickled to death to meet another man with his own name 'tickled to death' is one of the many amazing expressions I'm going to incorportate into my vocabulairy

I told him I was a busy man and could not spend my life hiking round the world in search of Garridebs. 'None the less,' said he, 'that is just what you will do if things pan out as I planned them.' I thought he was joking, but there was a powerful lot of meaning in the words, as I was soon to discover. "For he died within a year of saying them, and he left a will behind him. It was the queerest will that has ever been filed in the State of Kansas. His property was divided into three parts, and I was to have one on condition that I found two Garridebs who would share the remainder. I... wow. That is some typical rich guy bullshit. I wonder if a third one exists at all?

"I am wondering, Watson—just wondering!" "At what?" Holmes took his pipe from his lips. "I was wondering, Watson, what on earth could be the object of this man in telling us such a rigmarole of lies. I nearly asked him so—for there are times when a brutal frontal attack is the best policy—but I judged it better to let him think he had fooled us. Well. That does changes things. I'm joining Holmes now in wondering what that unpleasant american is up to

It was twilight of a lovely spring evening, and even Little Ryder Street, one of the smaller offshoots from the Edgware Road, within a stone-cast of old Tyburn Tree of evil memory, looked golden and wonderful in the slanting rays of the setting sun. I think I read about this place. An execution site, if I remember it correctly. *googles* Yes, it was a gallows. From marble-arch.londen:

It is impossible to know exactly what form the original took as there are so few written reports. In fact, during their first hundred years from 1177 to 1273, only eight single executions were deemed interesting enough to make note of.

But we do know that in 1571 a permanent triangular frame was erected – a mammoth structure that could, and sometimes did, hang up to 24 people at a time. The Tyburn Tree was of such renown it is even mentioned in Shakespeare’s Love’s Labour’s Lost: “Thou mak’st the triumviry, the corner-cap of society, The shape of Love’s Tyburn, that hangs up simplicity.”

Many met their end here. Records from the 1570s alone report that 704 felons were sentenced to be hanged there throughout the decade, for crimes ranging from murder to stealing cattle. Finally taken down in 1759 (presumably due to wear and tear), the structure was eventually replaced by a gallows that could be easily erected and dismantled each time. A gruesome early iteration of the London ‘pop-up’.

The last execution upon the tree was that of robber John Austin in 1783. The new place of execution became Newgate Prison. Today, a circular plaque embedded into the pavement on a traffic island at the entry to Edgware Road marks the spot of the Tyburn Tree

The house had a common stair, and there were a number of names painted in the hall some indicating offices and some private chambers. It was not a collection of residential flats, but rather the abode of Bohemian bachelors. Didn't bohemian bachelors have some queer connotations? Sometimes I read so much I get it all confused. Damn, if I'm distracted by research all the time I'm not going to finish this letter before bedtime. Still going to do that *10 minutes later* I can't find much at the moment, save the definition in the Urban dictionairy, which I'm def not going to type here. Anyone who knows more?

The room was as curious as its occupant. It looked like a small museum. It was both broad and deep, with cupboards and cabinets all round, crowded with specimens, geological and anatomical. Cases of butterflies and moths flanked each side of the entrance. A large table in the centre was littered with all sorts of debris, while the tall brass tube of a powerful microscope bristled up amongst them. As I glanced round I was surprised at the universality of the man's interests. Holmes will love this place

But you are a Britisher with solid references, and he is bound to take notice of what you say. I would go with you if you wished, but I have a very busy day to-morrow, and I could always follow you if you are in any trouble." The American fellow is unavailable for the very thing he claims to have come to England for? Sounds like an elaborate ploy to get this mr. Nathan out of the way for a while. Little clue as to why yet. I assume he wants something that the man has?

“I wish I could look over your collection, Mr. Garrideb,” said he. “In my profession all sorts of odd knowledge comes useful, and this room of yours is a storehouse of it.” Our client shone with pleasure and his eyes gleamed from behind his big glasses. “I had always heard, sir, that you were a very intelligent man,” said he. “I could take you round now if you have the time.” “Unfortunately, I have not. But these specimens are so well labelled and classified that they hardly need your personal explanation. If I should be able to look in to-morrow, I presume that there would be no objection to my glancing over them?” Holmes def has his suspicions and is not leaving the collection unguarded. Excited to learn how this will turn out

By the way, who is your house-agent?” Our client was amazed at the sudden question. “Holloway and Steele, in the Edgware Road. But why?” I should go to sleep. I was convinced this was the adress of the American, but instead Watson just mentioned that street as he and Holmes walked past

“This is a more serious matter than I had expected, Watson,” said he. “It is fair to tell you so, though I know it will only be an additional reason to you for running your head into danger. I should know my Watson by now. Holmes has finally accepted that Watson would never let him go into danger alone. This is so cute

I have identified Mr. John Garrideb, Counsellor at Law. He is none other than ‘Killer’ Evans, of sinister and murderous reputation.” “I fear I am none the wiser.” “Ah, it is not part of your profession to carry about a portable Newgate Calendar in your memory. Plot twist! Also, how funny it is of Holmes to acknowledge that it is not really Normal to memorize entire lists of prisoners

I'll give you an hour for a siesta, Watson, and then I think it will be time for our Ryder Street adventure.” Since when does Watson get to have siesta's? I'm jealous

So these two are stuck behind a cupboard instead of a curtain this time. Fun times!

Then my friend's wiry arms were round me, and he was leading me to a chair. “You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!” It was worth a wound—it was worth many wounds—to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation. “It's nothing, Holmes. It's a mere scratch.” He had ripped up my trousers with his pocket-knife. “You are right,” he cried with an immense sigh of relief. “It is quite superficial.” His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who was sitting up with a dazed face. “By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Ok not so fun times. Although Watson seems 100% fine with it. I've seen this scene quoted several times already, but didn't know it was from this case. This is some quality hurt/comfort. It has blood, desperation, removed clothing, and an excellent threat as the cherry on top. Brilliant

those bundles on the table are two thousand of Prescott's notes worth a hundred each and fit to pass anywhere. Help yourselves, gentlemen. Call it a deal and let me beat it.” Holmes laughed. “We don't do things like that, Mr. Evans. There is no bolt-hole for you in this country. Loving the implication that US is lawless territory

Well this was a fun case. Such a complicated ploy to get one old man out of his house, and some great Holmes/Watson interaction. I really need some sleep now

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes #the three garridebs #I'm so tired now lol

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

A/N: We're entering the FOI timeline now.

@emen-98 @@1lostsoul0fishbowl @@vulpixsworld

Prologue . . . Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

It was now officially springtime, and things were going great for her. It feels like she's even closer to Eddie, and hopefully, he's getting the message that she would never hurt him like almost everyone in this town does, including his dad. Chrissy was now officially handling both cheerleading and softball again. She doesn't mind the stares whenever she changes out of her uniforms. She's gotten used to the scars on her body. . .well, somewhat. They still are a little jarring. Chrissy had just pulled on her clothes after cheerleading practice when Heather walked up to her. Oh, she thought she had been alone in the locker room.

"Chrissy?" Heather asked.

"Hey, Heather," Chrissy said.

"I know we haven't talked a lot lately. I know we've both been a little busy," Heather said. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Chrissy grinned. "Really good."

"That's - That's good," Heather said.

"You look like you want to say something," Chrissy said.

"I just - I know you've been hanging out with Eddie Munson lately," Heather said and paused. "I didn't want to say anything because of the whole Jason Carver incident, but I hope you're being careful. I know how this sounds with me being your ex and all, but I'm also your friend."

"I am, Eddie's a really great guy. He's not really ready for a relationship right now, but to be honest, I don't think I am either," Chrissy said. "I like how it is now, though. We're friends, and he makes me feel better whenever I have a bad day. I like the way he smiles and the way he hides behind his hair. He's a really good friend."

"Well, I'm glad, and I suppose I shouldn't listen to the rumors about him. Like he's a Satanist, or that he sacrifices people on an alter of fire, or that he believes in aliens," Heather said.

"Oh, no, that last part is true. He's had several rants about it. He thinks it's arrogant to believe that we're alone in the universe. Although, even though he believes in them he's said on many occasions that he would still freak the fuck out if he ever met one," Chrissy said.

"He's kind of weird," Heather said.

"I know," Chrissy grinned. "That's what I like about him."

"I guess if you're happy, then I guess I have nothing to worry about. . .but if he does hurt you, then I'm going to reign hellfire down upon him," Heather said. "Get it?"

"Heather!" Chrissy laughed.

Chrissy left Heather and went to meet Eddie at the classroom where he was holding Hellfire today. Eddie was talking with Gareth in the hallway when she came upon them. Gareth looked pretty upset, more so than usual. Chrissy didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it just sort of happened. Apparently, Gareth was upset that his character got killed, and he thought that meant he was out of Hellfire. Eddie was in the middle of reassuring him. Chrissy smiled as Gareth looked at him, hopefully.

"You're sure, right?" Gareth asked. "I can come back."

"As long as you wanna be in Hellfire, you can be in Hellfire," Eddie said.

Eddie grinned as Gareth scurried off towards the school's entrance.

"Wow, and I left my kleenex at home," Ronnie said, and Eddie shoulder checked her. "Careful, Stan would kill me if I dropped this thing."

Ronnie kept Stan's trapper keeper full of D&D stuff at her place since his mom believed that Hellfire was nothing more than satanic crap hellbent on brainwashing her son. So, he has to lie and hide the things that make him happy.

"I think it's sweet," Chrissy said.

"You think everything that Eddie does is sweet. You're so blinded, Henderson," Ronnie laughed as she batted her eyelashes at her.

"Fuck off," Chrissy laughed. "He gets really obnoxious when he's right about something."

"That's true. No one likes that," Ronnie giggled.

"Oh, God, I thought my room was messy, but Eddie's room is off the charts, and he pretty much treats his van like a trash can," Chrissy said.

"I keep telling him it doesn't have to be perfect, but at least clean it up a little. My God, man," Ronnie said.

"And there's this thing he does with his eye lids - ," Chrissy said.

"Freaks me out!" Ronnie exclaimed.

"And when he eats - "

"Okay! Eddie doesn't like this!" He yelled.

He glared at the both of them as they laughed at him.

"Can I get a ride?" Ronnie asked.

"This is the last time," Eddie said, narrowing his eyes at her. "Even if you just listed my greatest failures."

"Oh, we haven't even gotten to the worst parts, Munson," Ronnie said. "Chrissy, are you riding with us this evening?"

"Yeah, definitely," Chrissy said.

"As the owner of the vehicle, shouldn't it be me who asks her?" Eddie asked. "Chrissy, are you riding with us this evening?"

"Yes," Chrissy giggled.

"I don't know why I'm letting either of you ride with me considering you insulted me," Eddie sniffed in mock offense.

"Don't worry, Eddie, despite all your faults, I think that you're very pretty," Chrissy laughed.

"Really?" Eddie smirked and Chrissy nodded.

"I, however, do not. You're about as ugly as the cat that wanders around Forest Hills," Ronnie said.

"I keep telling you it's a opossum, Ecker! Get your eyes checked!" Eddie exclaimed. "Chrissy, are you coming tonight? We couldn't play last night, but we're definitely playing tonight."

"I never miss a show. . .except that one time, but it was Dustin's fault," Chrissy said and paused, looking at Ronnie. "Technically, aren't you calling yourself ugly when you call him ugly?"

"Ugh, we do not look that much a like," Ronnie rolled her eyes.

"When you were younger, you managed to cover for him on a test when you pretended to be him, and it worked," Chrissy narrowed her eyes at her as they climbed into the van.

"Okay, by that logic, you should think that I'm pretty too," Ronnie said rolling her eyes.

"I do!" Chrissy grinned. "I just wouldn't date you for several reasons, and mostly because someone I know thinks you're pretty too. . . Have I not mentioned that I like men and women?"

"No!" Eddie and Ronnie exclaimed.

"Oh, well, I do," Chrissy shrugged.

"Thanks for telling us," Eddie said softly.

"I trust you guys," Chrissy said.

"Wait. . .who thinks I'm pretty?" Ronnie asked.

"It's not my place to say," Chrissy replied. "Let's go. It's my turn to make dinner tonight. Do either one of you want to join us?"

"Nah, Granny would be livid if I didn't warn her days in advance," Ronnie said. "But I'm sure Eddie wouldn't mind."

"Stop accepting invitations on my behalf, Ecker," Eddie sighed. "Unfortunately, as much as I would love to, I need to get to the Hideout early if I want to win Bev's favor."

"Oh, well, my mom's been dying to meet you," Chrissy said. "Maybe you can come over some other time."

"Uh, isn't that a little soon?" Eddie asked nervously.

"You're not her boyfriend, which is ridiculous because you two are practically dat - " Ronnie started to say.

"ANYWAY, your mom does know who I am, right?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, I told her all about you. I also told my cat about you," Chrissy said.

"You told your cat about me?" Eddie asked.

"I talk to my cat about you every night," Chrissy said.

"Okay, can we move on from this conversation? I'm totally picturing something else, and it isn't a pretty picture," Ronnie said as she put her feet up on Eddie's dashboard.

"Seriously?" Eddie asked.

"What? I don't want to put my feet on Stan's thingie," Ronnie said. "It's not my fault your van is so small."

"My van isn't the problem. It's your freakish legs of yours," Eddie replied.

"Let me tell you a secret about these freakish legs of mine," Ronnie said as she kept her feet exactly where she out them. "In four months? They are going to be walking into their new apartment in New. York. City."

Eddie nearly slammed on the brakes.

"No."

"Yep."

"You got the scholarship?"

"NYU class of '88, baby. Full ride," Ronnie said.

This time, Eddie slammed on the brakes and fishtailed the vehicle off to the side of the ride. Chrissy grinned as she sat back and let the two best friends have their moment.

"You know, I'm happy for you, right?" Eddie asked.

"I know," Ronnie said.

"I'm happy for you, too!" Chrissy blurted out. "Sorry, couldn't keep it in."

Eddie and Ronnie laughed just as a tapping sound came on the window. Officer Moore was looking into Eddie's window. He rolled it down with a sigh.

"Again?" Ronnie asked. "I thought we were done with that guy."

"Always," Eddie muttered. "Officer Moore, how can I help you on this fine spring afternoon?"

"I thought that was you, Munson," Moore said. "How many times do we have to have this conversation?"

"That's a question that you'll have to ask yourself, Officer. You're the one always filling up my dance card."

"That was some erratic driving - ," Moore said.

"He was avoiding a bird, sir," Chrissy said brightly as she popped her head in between the seats. "He flew right in front of his window."

"Miss Henderson, I didn't see you," Moore frowned.

"I'm guessing Officer Powell isn't driving with you today," Chrissy said.

"He's out sick," Moore frowned.

"Well, since Eddie doesn't have any priors, I think you can let him off with a warning, especially considering all of the illegal stops you made because of the vendetta you have against his father. I certainly would hate to tell Hopper that you're out for revenge against a young man who did nothing to hurt you," Chrissy said.

"Drive safely, and have a nice day," Moore frowned as he walked off.

"I thought I was the one who wanted to be a lawyer," Ronnie said. "You'd make a good one."

"I don't about being a lawyer, but I thought about being a social worker or a guidance counselor who's also a cheerleading coach," Chrissy said.

"You'd be good at those," Eddie replied and Ronnie nodded in agreement.

After dropping Ronnie off, Eddie drove Chrissy home. He pulled in front of her place and parked it for a moment.

"Are the others coming?" Eddie asked.

"Steve is dropping me off, but then he's going on a date with Nancy. They missed their last date night because Nancy got sick. Jonathan is expecting a phone call, and Robin is recovering from the same sickness Nancy got. She's currently in bed and cursing Nancy's name," Chrissy said.

"So, just you," Eddie smiled.

"Just me," she replied, smiling back at him.

"You don't have to keep saving me, you know," Eddie said.

"I know, I want to," Chrissy said. "You're not alone in this world, Eddie. I just want to make sure you know that."

"I know," Eddie said softly, and Chrissy kissed his cheek.

"See you tonight," Chrissy said.

"Looking forward to it," Eddie said.

Chrissy practically rushed through dinner, eager as always to see Eddie play. As per usual, Dustin pouted about not being able to go. She quickly said goodbye to her mother and brother before running out to Steve’s car. They were already late.

"Hey, you look nice tonight," Steve grinned as she got into the back seat.

"I'm going to tell him after the show," Chrissy said, beaming.

"Finally!" Steve exclaimed.

"What made you change your mind? I thought you were going to wait?" Nancy asked.

"I don't know, it just clicked while I was cooking," Chrissy said. "I didn't want to wait anymore."

"I hope it goes well," Nancy said.

"Me too," Chrissy grinned.

She said goodbye to them and quickly jumped out of the car, scurring inside and ignoring the dark clouds overhead. Chrissy cursed when she realized that Corroded Coffin was already playing. She really was late. Suddenly, she realized that this wasn't a cover song. This was "Fire Shroud," their original song. It was the song that Eddie said wasn't ready yet whenever she asked. He hadn't noticed that she had even come in yet. No, he was fully focused on the only other person at the bar. It was a young woman, not much older than they are, and she was really pretty too. Her hair was wildly curly, and Chrissy could barely make out the smattering of freckles on her face as she looked at Eddie. Eddie was looking back at her, enjoying the way her boot clad ankles tapped along to the music. Nothing could break their gaze, Eddie was euphoric at the sight of the other woman, and it felt like someone had punched Chrissy in the stomach. Chrissy plopped down in the darkened corner of the bar, closet to the door she just walked into. She watched as Bev eventually pulled the plug.

Eddie and his band started to clean up when she watched Ronnie grab his arm. She was pleading with Eddie, and she watched her mouth Chrissy's name to Eddie. Chrissy felt another blow to her stomach as Eddie laughed Ronnie off and shook his head at her. Once they put their instruments away, Chrissy watched as Eddie started talking to the girl at the bar. The way he talked to her and leaned closer to her. . .yeah, he was definitely interested in her. He had played the song for her, the same song he never would have played for Chrissy. She had read this all wrong. Eddie didn't like her. He was just being nice. She wasn't sure how long she sat there staring at them, but finally, she couldn't torture herself anymore. Chrissy walked out of the bar, leaning against the brick wall to wait for Steve. Her leg was shaking. God, she was so stupid. It took her a minute to realize that she was crying. The sound of thunder startled her.

"Come on, are you serious? Not now! That would be so fucking cliche!" Chrissy yelled.

Of course, the weather didn't listen to her. The rain came down in buckets, immediately soaking her. Chrissy let out a frustrated yell as more thunder and lightning followed. She was determined not to go back in even though she knew that standing out here was going to make her sick, but she didn't want to go back in there and face Eddie. She stood in the pouring rain and waited. She waited until the rain finally stopped, and Steve's car finally pulled up. She shivered, her entire body soaking wet as she slid in the back seats of his car.

"Sorry about your seats," Chrissy muttered.

"Jeeze, you could have waited inside," Steve said.

"Didn't want to," she replied.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked.

"I'm fine," Chrissy's bottom lip trembled. "Can we just go, please?"

"It didn't go well?" Steve asked softly.

Chrissy burst into tears again. Nancy quickly climbed into the back seat and wrapped her arms around her.

"Drive, Steve," Nancy said.

Steve drove off, and Chrissy sobbed into her shoulder. With her arm still around Chrissy, they walked into her house.

"Oh, honey, what happened?!" Claudia asked.

"I just got caught in the rain is all," Chrissy said. "I'm fine."

"Oh, let's get you out of those wet clothes," Claudia cooed.

"Do you mind if I spend the night, Mrs. Henderson?" Nancy asked.

"If it's alright with your mom, honey. It's more than okay with me," Claudia said and took her daughter to her room.

Chrissy let her mother take care of her and then bundled herself up in her blankets. Claudia left with promises of hot chocolate. Nancy was in the other room, and Steve left after kissing her goodnight while also saying goodbye to the Hendersons. He jokingly offered to beat Eddie up for her, but Chrissy knew that even he knew she would never want that. She stared at the picture on her dresser for a moment before getting up off the bed, the blanket wrapped tightly around her. Now, whenever she looked at it, she thought of Eddie locking eyes with that woman. Furious, Chrissy picked up the picture and put it in her bottom drawer before plopping down on the bed. Nancy came back in and laid down beside her.

"Called my mom," Nancy said. "She said it was okay. Did you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know," Chrissy said softly before launching into telling Nancy everything that happened.

"I'm sorry, Chrissy, but I hope whoever this girl is, that she's just an obstacle. We've all seen the way he looks at you, and I really hope that girl is nothing more than a case of Eddie being starstruck at the prospect of having another fan of his music," Nancy said. "It would be crazy to be anything else."

"Fire Shroud, Nance, he played Fire Shroud for her," Chrissy said with a groan. "It's just dumb. It's just a dumb crush on a boy. . .except that Eddie Munson isn't just some boy. Gah!"

"I don't think this is just a crush, Chrissy. I think you're in love with him," Nancy said.

"No! Nope! Absolutely not," Chrissy said and sighed. "I'll get over it if I have to. I can't be mad over Eddie, not returning my feelings. I can't force him to like me. He does seem like he wants to be my friend, so I can deal with having him be a part of my life even if it's not in the way that I want."

"Chrissy. . ." Nancy started to say.

Nancy was interrupted by Claudia coming in the mugs of hot chocolate. They both smiled gratefully at her. Chrissy got up and hugged her mother.

"Thanks, mommy," Chrissy said.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. You have your girl talk, and I'll handle Dustin. He's being very nosy," Claudia said.

"What else is new?" Chrissy asked, and Claudia laughed as she left. "Alright, enough about Eddie. Tell me all about your date with Steve."

"Are you sure?" Nancy asked.

Chrissy rolled her eyes as she sat on the bed, sipping her hot chocolate.

"I'm a big girl, Nance. It's going to suck for a while, but I can handle it," Chrissy said. "Especially if I have my wonderful best friends to help me through it. Now, tell me about Steve."

Nancy smiled as she told her all about the date. Chrissy's smile grew as they chatted about Steve and drank their hot chocolate. Nancy's joy was infectious, and for a moment, Chrissy forgot about her problem. She fell asleep that night, curled up against Nancy, determined to face the next day as head strong as her friend. Unfortunately, the next morning, she woke up as sick as a dog. Claudia ended up having to practically push Nancy out of the door the next morning when Steve showed up. Claudia called into work and stayed with Chrissy, nursing her back to health. When Eddie called around lunchtime to check on her, Chrissy couldn't help but let hope fill her heart. Until the words came out of his mouth, she wasn't going to give up on him. When Friday rolled around, Chrissy found herself feeling better, and with a skip in her step, she strolled into school. Eddie was waiting for her by her locker. Ronnie was with him, too.

"Hey, Henderson, glad you're feeling better," Eddie said, flashing her his dimples. "School is a lot less brighter without you."

"Thanks, Eddie," Chrissy said.

"I think Ronnie missed you, too," Eddie grinned. "I think she's starting to like you more than she likes me."

"Oh, I definitely like her more than you," Ronnie said.

"Ouch," Eddie said, and Chrissy laughed.

"Sorry, I missed your show," Chrissy said.

"Oh, you weren't there?" Eddie asked, and Chrissy narrowed her eyes at him.

"I was sick," she reminded him.

"Oh, right," Eddie said, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, looking guilty for a moment. "Well, you didn't miss much except for Bev pulling the plug."

"Oh, so nothing happened?" Chrissy asked.

"Why would it?" Eddie scoffed, but he couldn't quite meet her eyes. "You know, I promised Gareth that I would help him with something. I'm glad you're back, Chrissy."

Chrissy watched him walk away and confused about why he lied to her. Suddenly, she felt Ronnie touch her arm.

"You were there. Why didn't you tell Eddie?" Ronnie asked.

"You saw them. You know why," Chrissy said.

"She's just some chick that he met in a bar. She doesn't mean anything to him as much as you do," Ronnie said.

"He played her Fire Shroud," Chrissy said. "To her. . . Why didn't Eddie tell me that?"

"Why didn't you tell him that you were there?" Ronnie asked again.

"I was going to tell him how I felt," Chrissy muttered.

"And then you saw him with her," Ronnie realized. "Look, I love my best friend, but I'm siding with you if he messes this up. He does have feelings for you, but he's being a cowardly little shit and he's running away. I feel for the girl, but he's clearly using her to do that whether he realizes it or not. I don't think he went home with her or did anything with her. It was just one moment in a bar. She drew his attention for one night, but you have it every day since he fell for you on that cold, icey day, and that icicle nearly impaled you."

"I'm trying not to get my hopes up here," Chrissy sniffled.

"Well, if he does anything stupid, just know that I'm here for you, too," Ronnie said.

"Thanks, Ronnie," Chrissy said.

Chrissy realized suddenly that the last few months had been all about Eddie. Maybe she needed to pull back a little, give him a chance to miss her. Plus, she really didn't want her entire world to revolve around him. Suddenly, she also realized that during the last few months of getting closer to Eddie, she had neglected her cheerleader and softball friends. Well, that wouldn't do. Chrissy desperately needed to come up for air. She needed to breathe.

Chapter Nine

#stranger things #chrissy cunningham #chrissy this is for you #chrissy cunningham lives #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #chrissy cunningham x eddie munson #edissy #hellcheer #dustin henderson #henderfam #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #jonathan byers #stranger things argyle #robin buckley #with a side of #stancy #jargyle #platonic stobin #platonic ronance #platonic buckingham #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction

[anamericangirl]

Hey there, I have a question.

First off, I used to self h«rm a lot and attempted suic!de multiple times. When I finally decided to talk to the social worker at my very Christian school, the first and only thing she told me was that what I did was a sin, and that I had no right to do it, since my body only belongs to God. Don’t get me wrong, I’m Christian too, but what she told me really damaged my faith. When I told her that I am bisexual (that wasn’t the main topic, it just came up), she told me that for that, I deserve to be kille?, and that it would’ve been better if my attempts had succeeded.

I tried dot educate myself on the topic of suic¿de in the Bible, but I couldn’t really keep doing that since it only triggered me and I couldn’t keep doing it. But I feel like you really know about the Bible, and so I wanted to ask what you know about that topic.

If you don’t want to answer this, that’s completely fine, I can understand it‘s a sensible topic.

Have a beautiful day, you deserve the best.

Wow, I'm so sorry you've had such serious struggles and the social worker would tell you such things. Some people really shouldn't be put in positions where they are supposed to be a trusted source of advice and counsel and she sounds like one of those people. Those are incredibly damaging things to say to someone who was in the very vulnerable state you were in. I'm glad you were able to keep your faith in God and made attempts to study the issue yourself even though you had an experience that understandably made both those things more difficult. Like if she actually told you it would have been better if your suicide attempts were successful that's very suicide baity and I hope she's not still in that position.

I'm very honored you feel like I know the Bible pretty well. I have been studying it more in depth this past year or two so I definitely know more than I used to but there's still a lot for me to learn!

The Bible doesn't explicitly address suicide and say not to do it, but we can get a very solid understanding of what God thinks about it by reading and studying his word. We know that God is the creator and he has given us the gift of life. And he makes it clear in the Bible that all life is unique and precious to him and he does not want us to take it upon ourselves to end our own lives.

There six or seven people mentioned in the Bible who committed suicide and several more who had suicidal thoughts but overcame them by putting their hope in God. Elijah, Solomon, Jonah, Job, even Paul all hit the point where they wanted to give up on life and some even asking God to end them, but instead of going through with these desires, they ended up putting their trust and faith in God and he pulled them through, which is what he wants us to do whenever we have to the point where we are in so much despair the only things we can think of to distract ourselves or end our troubles is self harm and suicide. In Acts 16 Paul even explicitly stops a prison guard who was about to kill himself after thinking a bunch of prisoners had escaped and tells him not to kill himself.

There are many verses in the Bible about coming to God when we feel at our lowest.

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." - Isaiah 41:10

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." - Jeremiah 29:11

"Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken." - Psalms 55:22

"Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death." - Romans 8:1-2

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." - Romans 8:38-39

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. The righteous person may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all." - Psalms 34:18-19

Those are by no means all the verses, but it is a small sampling that shows that God wants us to come to him with our despair, sorrow and grief so he can give us healing and hope again.

Speaking theologically, suicide would be a considered a sin. It goes against God's commandments and disrespects the gift of life he has given and disrespects the fact that God is the giver and taker of life. Life is not ours to take. Not from another person and not from ourselves. God created us special. In 1 Corinthians it says “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.” This pertains to far more than suicide, but suicide is definitely a way to disrespect our own body.

God does tell us not to commit murder and suicide is technically self-murder. So while suicide is a sin, it's not unforgivable and it's not something you deserve for anything else you do or are struggling with and it's completely unbiblical for anyone to say you should be killed or your suicide attempts should have been successful.

I am very glad you made attempts to study for yourself instead of just accepting what that woman told you and I hope you have found healing and I hope I was able to provide a somewhat satisfactory answer for you.

Thank you for your kind words. I hope you are doing better and have a wonderful day! God bless!

#anon #answered

[urprinceoflove]

Part I: Introduction to the Death Clock

Pairing: Nash Wells x GN!Reader, and mentions of EoWells x GN!Reader

Summary: You have eight days to live. You have settled on spending those eight days with your favorite people in the process of trying to redeem yourself and your actions. But will it be enough?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, a cocky reader, Nash being bullied

Word Count: 1,403

A/N: here we go, part one finallyyy. i hope to get this series going as i already have the ideas and whatever its called im blanking. YES.

-> Prologue | Part II

H.E.L.P. Master List | The Flash Master List | Full Master List

—

You were on your evening walk through the streets of Central City. You hadn’t told anyone on the team that you would be out, which you weren’t quite sure if it was a good or bad idea. You didn’t care either way.

At least, that was until you ran into a metahuman.

“Y/N L/N, I have been looking all over Central City for you.” The voice rang throughout the alleyway that you were cutting through to try to head back towards S.T.A.R. Labs. Obviously, you will not be going back anytime soon. “I don’t know where you have been hiding all of this time, but I suppose tonight is the night for you to repent.”

“Repent?” You asked. “For what?”

“For your crimes! The sins you have committed upon this city.”

“Look,” You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “To be honest, you sound a lot like the Green Arrow. To which, I don’t mind, of course, but I don’t think he would be too happy knowing that someone is going around pretending to be him…”

“Silence!” The voice called. The person from above the alleyway dropped down in front of you. You weren’t very surprised at their invincibility. The being uplifted a hood that appeared to be over their face. More Green Arrow references. Although, the figure happened to be a woman.

Your eyes widened. “Wow, I honestly didn't expect you to be a woman. Not in a sexist way… women could be vigilantes and Green Arrow wannabe’s as well.”

“Gosh, do you ever stopped talking?” She asked.

“Not really.”

She groaned. “Let me just finish my speech at least…”

“Go ahead.”

“I know of your villainous ways and the crimes you committed are too many times for me to count. The most important to me was you robbing the bank that my father worked at. He was severely injured in that interaction. I will never forgive you for what you did as he has been confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”

“Is your father Dr. Wells?”

“What?” The woman stared.

“Harrison Wells, I mean. He was confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Actually, I didn’t commit that action the particle accelerator did—”

She cut you off. “That’s besides the point! There is no talking to you…”

“Sometimes.” You admitted. ��But I will have you know that I have changed my ways and I am no longer the criminal I used to be. That’s what I have been told anyway…” You trailed off.

“It doesn’t matter to me. I didn’t hear any sincerely in your voice nor did you take this whole interaction seriously.” She sighed. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you left me with no choice.”

A battle? In this alleyway? It was bold, but you were sure that this woman standing before you was a normal civilian. Well, besides her dropping down from a high building and not feeling any pain in her legs. Okay, maybe not a normal civilian so much.

“Okay,” You weren’t a metahuman yourself, but you had some training from your past criminal life as well as Nash as a way to defend yourself. Although you were against fighting, it seems that now was the only time you will allow yourself to. “Bring it on, I guess.” You mumbled.

Though, it was not a battle you expected.

Instead of fighting, the woman’s figure almost seemed to teleport from side to side. You felt her coming up behind you, so you swiftly turned around only to be met with the woman’s hand on your chest.

The world around you had gone dizzy almost as if Rosa Dillon, also known as Top, hit you with her vertigo inducement. Above all, a clock with red numbers making out the time showed.

You woke up in the medical bay in S.T.A.R. Labs.

The heart monitor beeped loudly as you sat up from the hospital bed you were laying on. Nash ran into the room first, making his way to your side.

“Hey, hey,” He set a hand on your chest. “You need to calm down, we are trying to figure everything out.”

His hand on your chest gave you anxiety. You pushed him away from you. Nash stared at you, confused. Caitlin came in shortly after.

“Glad to see you are awake.” Was all she could mutter as she walked over to the heart monitor, disregarding Nash’s existence for now. “We found you in the alley way close to S.T.A.R. Labs. Well, Nash did. Somehow.”

“I was busy with excavation work.”

“You always say that.” Cisco mentioned as he walked into the medbay. “But yeah, he found you.”

“What about the metahuman?” You inquired.

“What metahuman?” Cisco asked, almost failing to hide his excitement.

“I don’t really know who they were. She was wearing a hood and she could teleport. She touched my chest and then I saw a timer in red.” You explained.

Cisco ran out of the medbay to grab his metahuman binder before returning immediately. He flipped through the cards.

“Ah-ha!” Cisco pulled out one of the cards from the binder. “Lifespan, also known as Theresa Vences. She uses her powers to set a death timer on her victims.”

“A what?” Nash stared at Cisco.

“A death timer.” Cisco repeated. “What did the time say when you saw it?”

You shook your head. “192 hours?”

“That’s eight days.” Caitlin confirmed.

“Wait, I only have eight days to live?” You asked. Your heart monitor started to beep faster.

Nash came forward to calm you. “I know that we will find a cure for this. Don’t worry about it, Y/N…”

“Don’t worry about it? How would you feel if you were on a timer, Nash!” You snapped.

The mythbuster took a step back. You were pissed off at your shortened lifespan, sure, but he felt there was no need for you to get mad at him as he was not the one who planted the timer on you.

“Nash is right. There’s no need to start a ruckus.” Caitlin chimed in.

“Oh, whatever.” You muttered under your breath. You removed the heart monitor off your finger as the beeping noises became almost obnoxious for you. You removed yourself from the room and walked down the hallway away from the medbay and most importantly the cortex. Nobody had said a word to you as you were leaving. There was no point. The only person who followed you down the hallway was, of course, Nash.

You had a hand on your head as you stopped in front of the Time Vault.

“What do you want, Nash?”

“I just want to help you out. I know the stuff that you are going through right now is difficult.”

“I am sure you do.” You mocked, not bothering to turn around to see the man. You put a hand on the Time Vault, opening the secret door.

Nash opened his mouth to speak, but shut it immediately. There was no point.

The Time Vault door shut in Nash’s face as you were already comfortable in the room.

Day one began.

“Going down this path will bring great darkness into your soul.” Eobard warned. “The negative speed force may entice you now, but I am a prisoner in this cell.” He put his hands on your shoulders. “Please promise me that you won’t make the same mistake I did.”

“I can’t promise something I know I won’t keep.” You admitted.

“At least you are honest.” Eobard removed his hands off your shoulders and took a few steps away. He sighed. “Won’t you just run away with me instead, Y/N? We could both run away from this villainous path, for all I want is to be with you.”

You were silent. You loved the man, but you couldn’t help but just walk away from your life. The life that you wanted to live. You loved the thrill and adventure of the crimes that you committed. Giving all of this up for him just seemed absurd to you. Yes, love may make you do crazy things, but in this case it seemed love was only affecting the mind of Eobard Thawne; not you.

Eobard stared into your eyes for a short moment. And in that moment he realized; he lost you.

#the flash #tom cavanagh #harrison wells #harrison wells x reader #eobard thawne #eowells #eobard thawne x reader #eowells x reader #nash wells #nash wells x reader

[eisforeidolon]

Q: When you have to get into character, like a crying scene, like when Dean's crying on the rock because spoiler alert Mary dies -

Jared: Wow!

Jensen: Wait, when I'm what? When Dean's crying on the rock? [fan repeats] Oh, yeahyeahyeahyeah. [pause] Right.

Q: How do you get into - both of you - how do you get into that character - or, not character, like zone, I guess? Into that crying role? And then when it's over, are you like, [fake tough voice] 'I'm ready to go fight somebody', are you in the feels all day after?

Jensen: Yeah, that's how I am in real life. I'll watch a - a commercial and I'll be like [exaggerated distressed inhale, gets up and walks off], 'I wanna go fight somebody!' No, I just go to the bathroom for some tissue.

Jared: I just think of the saddest moment of my life. No, I think he and I are similar. One of my least favorite things I can see on a script is stage direction saying they break down, or they cry. Or something. And so many scenes in Supernatural - I can't necessarily name one right now - but so many scenes that didn't say Dean cries or Sam cries or Dean breaks down or Sam breaks down? We did, you know? And so many scenes also, vice versa, say Sam sheds a tear, Dean breaks down - it just didn't, it didn't feel right? So we just kind of - I think we just let the scenes happen? I feel like as the seasons progressed, when we get to like 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and so on and so forth? [points to baby crying in audience] You feel me! I feel like it was just one of those things where we'd do a scene and we'd rehearse it and be like, 'Oh, wow! That felt more powerful than I anticipated looking at the page.' [Jensen nods] So then you get to set and one of the characters kinda breaks down a little bit - okay, go with it! And vice versa. It'd be a really sadly written scene where they're talking about loss or fear or something, but it didn't feel like the characters would approach it with sadness as much as frustration? So it's - I think by - pretty quickly we had a pretty good idea of who Sam and Dean were, and then as the show progressed, the writers kind of wrote Sam and Dean to Jared and Jensen, and so they trusted us with like, 'Hey if this is a scene where y'all make a joke, we're not gonna write Dean says kiddingly yadda yadda or Sam says, you know, emotionally yadda yadda. They just kinda wrote our dialogue. And, like, y'all do y'all's thing! So I feel like that's more how I approach it.

Jensen: There's also a large capacity of confidence within the character that we have as actors. [Jared: Right.] And I mean I - to brag on him a bit [hits Jared's knee] - I remember watching him, cause in the first season, a little episode called Heart. Sam loses - what was her name? [Audience: Madison!] Madison! Yeah, and has a really, y'know, emotional scene. And Jared really got into a headspace that day, and I remember watching him on set and he was - I mean, just in a corner, just like sittin on the floor, just kinda rocking. And these lighting setups can take half hour, forty five minutes sometimes. And he was staying in this emotional - you can't do that for ten hours a day. [Jared shakes his head no.] And I remember asking him, I was like, 'Dude, what are you thinkin about?' And he was like, 'I'm thinking about my dog Sadie dying.' And that's, that's - and I mean, my God, like how emotionally taxing that must have been for him to do that for several hours, just to stay in an emotional state so that when they yelled action, he could shed tears. And -

Jared: That was the last time I did that.

Jensen: That was the last time he did it. And I watched him as not just as a scene partner and a friend, but I got to watch him as an audience member and see Jared figure out a way to tell Sam's story through actual emotion that he had for the character. And so when we got to season 15 and we had that barn scene, those weren't two actors thinking about something else that made them emotional so that they could put on an emotional face for their character. These were two actors who were so deeply invested and confident in their character that all we had to think about was Dean dying and Sam losing his brother. And the tears, and the emotion, just kind of swept us up. So yeah, it evolved over the course of the show. And getting out of it when they yelled cut? Sometimes - you know, you're essentially tricking your body into thinking that something horrible is happening? And your body is reacting by -

Jared: Your body doesn't know.

Jensen: Your body is - I remember, there were several times but I remember the one time when I was recounting Dean's experience in hell to Sam and they yelled cut and I had to walk away, because my body was shaking, because my body was thinking that I was going through something very traumatic. And it's interesting because those leave little scars on your heart. Those leave little impressions on your soul, because your body reacted to what they thought were real. And even though we knew in our brain it wasn't - we went through that process, physically. And so yeah, I had to go and walk that off because I couldn't stop - the tears just kept coming and my body was shaking and I was like [exaggerated blinking, shaking out his hands]. And so, you know.

Q: So you weren't ready to go fight anybody after?

Jared: He would've.

Jensen: Yeah, you know, I went and boxed a tree.

Jared: And we're not, like, woo-woo guys. We're southern. We're both Texans, born and bred [audience cheers] - yeah, thank you. The idea that someone's like, 'Oh, well if you do a crying scene you're gonna go home and you're gonna feel exhausted cause your body was just crying.' I'm like [loud scoffing noise]. Surrrre. Like I'm acting, I memorized the lines. But it's legit. Having done it now for 23 years, done 450 episodes of television? Yeah, you do a scene where everybody's having a good time and riding horses or laughing or joking or you're - nutcracker whatever? You gotta go home and you're laughing. You feel like you should invite friends. You do a scene where someone's, where your brother is dying? I slept for days after we shot that barn sequence. I just had no energy, I had no dopamine in my body. And I was like, this is really weird, I slept eight hours last night, I never sleep eight hours, why can I not get out of bed to go to the bathroom or whatever?

Jensen: It's strange that an emotional scene is more physically taxing on you than a day of fight scenes. It's strange but it just is, it's coming from within and it just exhausts you.

Jared: Yeah, yeah.

Jensen: It's also one of those things - just like a day of fight scenes - where at the end of it? Man, you really feel like you hung your hat on that day. Like I put in the work today. [Jared nods along and mouths yeah and same] Like I felt that, and that's always a good feeling when you know you - when you feel like you really delivered.

#SPNATL 2023 #J2 main panel #long post

[bonesandthebees]

YEAHHHH LMAOO that was the only time I've sent an ask on anon idk why I was so anxious that day LMAOOO

Tho I will say I've debated asking this one question to u so many times and everytime I wanna go on anon but then I realise it would not. Make any sense . If I was on anon so I've just refrained from asking lmaoo (which wow brain as soon as I typed this I've forgotten the question. Good job brain)

ANYWAYS MHMHMHM it's of a strawberry flower!! It's genuinely just such a gorgeous tatt I'd want it for myself even if it wasn't matching so I feel very comfortable getting it in the case we ever split up or anything <3

OOHHH THANK YOU YES PLS FEEL FREE TO GIVE ADVICE I AM ALWAYS LOOKING FOR MORE both for traveling solo in another country (I am Scared) and also tattoo after care?? Like. It's gonna be above my ankle how careful of socks/pants should I be :000

I mean if you ever wanna go on anon to ask me something that's totally fine I get it, and also if you're ever worried about asking me something just know that if I ever don't want to answer a question for any reason (ie: the answer isn't something I want to divulge publicly, I don't feel comfortable talking about that subject, I feel like I just don't have a good answer, etc.) I just won't answer it. it doesn't mean I'm going to hold a grudge against someone who asks me something I don't wanna answer. I get it, people are curious or have questions or whatever and that's fine! if I don't wanna answer I simply won't and that doesn't mean I'm upset or annoyed or anything like that

oooo a strawberry flower sounds so pretty!! I'm sure that's gonna look amazing

okay advice time for travel + tattoos under the cut bc it got long

oh yeah I was gonna say you're from canada right? I think going through customs is a bit easier for US/Canadian citizens traveling between the two countries, but still good luck with the lines. other advice I have for traveling in another country solo... while you might consider getting your currency exchanged, almost everyone and everywhere takes card these days so as long as you have a card that can be used internationally (I believe mastercard and visa are pretty much usable in every country, although I'm sure if it's just between the US and Canada most cards are fine, just make sure to check). but also if you do wanna do currency exchange, wait until you're in the US to do that or else you'll get ripped off. once you're in the US just go to an ATM and withdraw cash from your bank account, and it'll come out in US dollars without the additional fee you'd get from going to a currency exchange place

OKAY TATTOO TIPS

I think most tattoo artists these days use second skin after giving someone a tattoo. it's basically a sticky thin sheet of plastic that the artist will put on top of the tattoo after it's finished, and usually your artist will instruct you to leave it on anywhere from 24 hours to several days. any artist worth their salt will properly explain how long to keep it on for, what to expect and look out for, etc. the second skin will protect the tattoo so you won't have to worry about it rubbing against fabric in the initial few days after getting it. although I'll say taking that stuff off is a BITCH it's like peeling a bandaid off but so much worse

however, your artist might not use second skin. out of my five tattoos, only two of the artists I've been to used second skin which is apparently unusual because from what I've heard from tattoo artists is that it's pretty much standard at this point to use it. however because only my latter two tattoos used second skin, I didn't realize that I have reactions to second skin that make it not suitable for me to use. you might have a reaction as well and that's ok! for me at least my reaction wasn't anything bad, it's just that I noticed a lot of redness around the second skin and when I took it off (earlier than I was supposed to) it left marks around my tattoo that didn't go away for 6 months. so yeah in the future if I go to an artist and they want to use second skin, I'm going to refuse because I've healed 3 tattoos perfectly fine without it. so if your artist doesn't use second skin (and tbh even if they do because you'll need this once you take the second skin off) buy some aquaphor. your artist is probably going to instruct you to wash the tattoo with antibacterial soap 2-3 times a day, and afterwards you should put a thin layer of aquaphor on top of the tattoo to protect it and soothe any dryness or scabbing. it might seem annoying to wash a tattoo so many times a day, but trust me once it starts scabbing you're going to want to wash it because it itches and the aquaphor calms it down.

having the tattoo on your ankle might be tricky since it's too cold to wear shorts, and the hem of your pants might rub against it. try to wear pants that are looser around your ankles (no skinny jeans or leggings) so that the fabric doesn't irritate it. and try to wear socks that don't touch the tattoo.

above all though, your tattoo artist should be able to tell you everything I just told you. don't be afraid to ask them questions. they want your tattoo to heal nicely bc that's their work! and just in general don't be shy to talk to your artist. my first two tattoos aren't bad by any means, but I don't love them because I was too anxious to properly communicate with my artist about what I wanted. don't be afraid to ask them to change something in the design, or if they put the stencil on and you want a different placement tell them! your artist is there to work with you so just talk to them :)

okay that got so much longer than I meant it to hope that helps!!

#ask #icyfox17

[toinfinitywinning]

this is get to know you time. the cringy name game at every camp in the world you do with toilet paper. enough.

Conversations and thoughts resembling the same level of random and incongruence of my Apple Music library. like Josh Groban is to Eminem: Mercy Me. a lot about everything that’s not a hashtag bc it just needs more attention.

Let the first (post) be first:

Hi. I’ve never done this before (like a seriously grown up blog on purpose. Just when just followed sad somewhat desperate poetry with a random live-laugh-love meme in there somewhere.) and Pitch Perfect.

BUT.

For 2 years I’ve had Long-Haul COVID. It’s a different kind of lonely

Thanks so much, amirite? —Gen-Z apologies if I didn’t use that jumbled acronym-word correctly.

It’s hard to keep up.

See? What am I talking about now and how did I get there…

Due to a very common symptom of LHC…

Again—hard to keep up. It’s there. Tho

And I have a lot of quirk so it’s possible I think you’ll “get” but are just nice not to tell me

BUT.

It’s already gone. Train left the Station yesterday.

Slipped on a penny.

Not Good. not even funny.

Teens with the gorgeous graffiti have to Go elsewhere. I’ve always been jealous of that kind talent.

Whole lot better than something else shiny thrown on the track and it’s derailed. There’s at least some innocence in a paint can.

WOW.

I have major attention and Brain Fog hurdles to conquer or shortly bypass. You might not be able to tell b/c of how My writing jumps around so infrequently.

Not true but still easier.

Mostly innocent and playful.

Sadly the attention part is this many years young.

Writing comes naturally. As it always has, strangely...

And why is healing so exhausting? Writing is therapeutic but My body says—can you not?

i know im not the only one asking that!

As if I have time for that too.

find a community of people suffering just as similarly and gain strength, tips and tricks.

Just, speak-screen edit my writing for me. Maybe a clarification fact-✔.

Just not wherever Tr*mp gets his.

Could be Truth Social. Monthly fee tho will cost you your Red Hat.

MYGAbad

Speaking I struggle with processing w/e skills I must have held onto.

BUT.

Since 2 years is quite. some. time.—I’ve shared many struggles and victories.

Like a Bell curve. Or a punk Domino falling then lining them up takes longer just to go down again in half the time. Repeat.

It’s very likely I Will try to talk about many things at once.

I really can’t help that. LOL.

Jury’s still out but I get most of my writing and miscellaneous musings from mom.

Dad can write the best, longest, and precious prayers and notes.

Almost delicately but like you KNOW he’s giving you a hug.

A Good mix tape’s paper Version.

Enter Run on sentences. Truly a stream by now.

Although my brain muscle is weak I’ve been encouraged by several people to Start a blog. Someday I’ll include the past 2 years of w/e pics are on other SocMed.

I can’t think of anything worse.

Yea, okay LOL.

Judgment free. Occasionally… like normal doses then have to work through that.

Mostly that’s because I knew nothing about anything before I opened My computer and started sharing My thoughts under zero context ridden or form at all.

More likely as well to offend and piss someone off. Well done you’re now one less friend popular. There’s an App for that tho-tracking people Who don’t like you.

Not sure where I’ll land with this. It may not land you either.

Because like a lot of us. Sometimes you don’t get to talk actually. No Room.

I like routine; that’s out. So it gets dull.

I’ve learned I hadn’t yet given myself the space to see all of things I can do sitting down.

But. By “given” I mean to say that perhaps I didn’t know it was there.

One Good thing I’ve gathered from this Hell.

Hell fresh by the Day! Never frozen.

So at that time and in this case of my life; sitting is fine.

Some of it isn’t too bad. The writing. You will find questionable punctuation. Run on sentences that I was running.

Relevance at all.

All around Confusion…altho connect the dots could have been seen as practice.

Or annoying even. I’d have no words.

I truly don’t set out to be funny. I could never do stand-up or improv. Or act.

Humor forced just takes and receives too much energy that might come off insincere.

Nothing on command.

Like Matt Perry’s brilliant improv wit it just doesn’t hit the same.

B/c it was scripted.

A syllabus for it Imagine.

The horn to jump off the swim block.

It’s when Life feels more scripted a lot of people close up.

That’s because you’re not in charge anymore. I’ve lost the Power.

Don’t prefer caring about whether someone likes me like I used to.

I believe you can snooze me for 30 days or say ‘I’m done w/ her’ and send Me to the cyberarchives.

Okay. Okay.

So—90% of the time I’m witty and sarcastic with a bit of cynicism, discomfort (for you), and pettifogging.

I write primarily about the questions of intersectionality.

How do things fit.

Let’s Fit it.

Until I figured out physics and calculus and basic math were behind a career in architecture and the classes I would have to take, I enjoyed taking things apart to make something else.

Not always pretty.

Could be Good what I took apart was the best thing we can’t see.

Like I’m writing questions but with wisdom not meaning to do that either,

A lot of people don’t like that. You do you! Baby.

I don’t mean to be at all harsh or hurtful. I try not to say that anything vainly.

I say it b/c a lot of what I’m writing is all of every piece of stream of consciousness tallied.

And it was a synapse connecting another.

Maybe that’s the creative part? The other side of My Brain is telling Me to ✔ on the other side so I’m like…crickets.

What I write is stream of consciousness, brutally honest and to some might be lightly offensive. In College writing this Way would’ve absolutely driven Me crazy.

Then life steps in and bonks u on the head with a newspaper but 15 years later returns the favor with an iPhone.

Or too blunt. And comes across as harsh. And that’s mostly because if I don’t have an emoji to match my real-life broken ღ I’m breaking up with you.

Self reflection: impulsive

I used to journal so much growing up.

When did I lose that innocence?

We can’t talk about folding paper into cranes and witchcraft finger fortune games anymore?

No more MASH?

Huh, maybe you weren’t born this Way. Ur Parents just drew circles nearest each other or your apple stem twist broke too soon and you want a partner whose name starts with P.

Very often I overshare. If you’re reading this this is not brand new information. No ability to say things simply. Think I’ve already. That can put me really vulnerable to more bitcoin hacks.

And then you need to figure out what bitcoin is. And whether Mario can collect coins as well in place of the hackers.

I’d say ask Tom Brady b/c of his investments but since retirement he’s been pretty deflated.

Mean people that mean to hurt.

First of all I feel sorry for you. Not in a poor you tho.

People Who hurt on purpose don’t often have any Way to vent or get a rise other than evoke feelings in and deflect toward a schoolmate.

Skip back to the part I tried talking about vulnerability. It truly is the invisible cloak and no one can see you but nothing makes sense still and you’ve only fixed what’s on the outside. Now you’re peeved AND cloaked.

At this conjunction junction next I’d suggest try shopping at Target opposed to Abercrombie then.

Feet in the water right above bankruptcy to see how things could be different only what…if?

Good ♧ seriously.

So there’s more grace given when you fall. When it’s not your month Day or even year!

Nobody is there for you!!

And My cloak is getting rained on.

Maybe gathering strength from falling will come a common sense with a 6th one but with seriously meaningful things I’ve learned and less hard knock’s Life for us.

The hard Way.

The bottom’s still there and it actually stinks stinks. Discouraging b/c there are two sides to the bottom of the cave full of stalagTITES and mites.

All the up’s and down’s. Right there. And the COVID-19 bat OMG!

You know you may not be able to fall any further further but once you’re up again you’re wondering whether you should get some cement to close that thing off.

Choose to live! But welcome to the real world—it sucks—ur gonna Love it.

Almost 4got. In the cave you dont always have to wait for Jesus to be resurrected if that metaphor comforts you but if change comes and it requires a whole new worm can of Life we already can’t handle that gets us outta the dank I don’t think we need to ask permission to the rights of that Bible passage.

BUT.

Until YOU are ready for change...

Forget it. At least you meant well. Someone can guide that horse to water but it stays pretty hydrated, so he says he’s Good. Promise. The only talking animal and it was Me Who got to hear it. More importantly, who’s gonna ☊? Care? There’s a country song finding out Who your Friends are. A lot stay lost and it’s not helpful all our Friends aren’t the same.

Missing a Good chance to find out if you’re in a similar predicament and that not always a bad thing.

At times I have literally had to be lifted off the floor.

I don’t do this at all for pity. As you read, My Pride is the biggest obstacle to let Go.

When you do?

The hard way through this.

I am angry and irritable for bouts. Sometimes I’m silly and invite karma punishments.

Go all Brimstone and every type fire and the Old Testament has nothing New-thinking and no one new to add to it. SMH. Nail a list on the wooden church door reading it is nearing endgame. Or, Just open your hotel drawer and tear out the back half.

So change then— If it were Me and it has been just not an actual hole I’d be outta there due to the spiders and crickets alone. Jiminy’s Cool.

If u can’t change and just stay a novice bunny hill—fine! Stay there. Build some confidence through experience.

And isn’t that another thing? Something specific motivates the fire under your (cuckoo!) and before you’d see the dark without any End of the tunnel and more importantly with the light aspect. All the sudden you care b/c what? It applies to you of course be selfish. Fascinating yet humbling.

Then there’s the ‘Why Me’ (?) phase? Not fully pitiful but just pretentious enough to resume the trailblaze. Bad attitude with a healthy dose of are we there yet and trying to Balance whether someone is saying …’they get it; you always feel bad’ so…KY Basketball banter? Ashamed accompanies too bc thing is a few times I did kind of scoff at phrases like I always feel bad. Like, here’s 2 Extra strength Tylenol.Alright, Ok, come test for Covid 1/29/22. It shouldn’t take going through something to empathize with or change but you could’ve listened for longer with a clear mind. Just cannot wrap your head around it and I think sometimes that’s okay. What’s next I’ll try so hard.

+ It’s 12:01am of 1/29/24 (so last night), you still can’t do math and/or struggle to add or subtract 12 so aren’t entirely sure its your sophomore year orientation, and you already surrender to what you didn’t want to get up for in the first place. Kind of silly u set the alarm! B/c Pain, confusion, Discomfort and a Deep loneliness that has very little to do with people awaits. That whole scenario is a disaster but look who’s standing and GOT. UP. period. 15 years ago that’s where I’d be. Just defeated.

THAT. Is enough some days. I say that to you struggling to believe the same but know Deep down.

Year 2 longhaul and youre wondering why there are anniversaries at all given about half are always sad or tragic. Evoking the worst on what could be the best. Might be something To think 2 minutes ago you’d ended your prayer to have a better Day. Of anything is true about everything happens for a reason I’d say having to chooose how to respond given you have the privilege at all to that just means were normal. B/c ill be honest I would not

I’m angry. WHAT is so complicated about your lack of Faith or belief prayer must go into an encrypted iCloud even the FBI can’t retrieve or interpret. Never had a chance! But I’ll add that it’s worth noting prayer doesn’t deal with its existence in transaction currencies..

Feel less Pain but feel more with it or stronger now. Or, just plain ‘ol numb. Similar to Addiction I suppose people get so used to being healthy one Way or another they don’t even notice better OR worse and no one is getting married.

Truth is.

Yea.

I’m in Hell, but I’m not on a ventilator. I’m not without relentless Support.

I still can smile but laugh just a bit before it hurts.

Something is always worse.

SomeONE is doing worse.

Somewhere and definitely rn.

I never knew I’d be dealing greed of perspective for this Long.

Something you’ll never find out about that changed your life’s trajectory where an explanation would have only confused things.

Then we still have the chance to be astonished and then genuine bc of that. Thankful. Expectant. With Faith somehow. Maybe carrying someone else’s Hope for a while might burden you less for a short time.

You dont need to see eye struggle and suffering. You dont need examples. You just know. There’s a fleeting peace u might not see again for 2 days but in knowing it’s not just you with the same bs going on.

Like here. Here is someone who needs support but in a different Way but how unique it could be to trade just for a bit. It’s not leg day this time remember u agreed a temp trade.

We don’t have to know everything. Most of the time I don’t give God the time to keep up w/ Me let alone do anything miraculous before I just hang up.

Although My Life was headed in a completely renewed direction in so many ways of recovery—

I got sick. Not because it was meant to be.

Because COVID. Possibly a rabid bat. Cracked vile or petri-dish

Everything does not happen for a reason and ppl dont like hearing that bc its an easy out. Says time might go on but this thorn wont ever heal. How do we respond? that’s the most authentic and a strength yes or no wand.

I hate cliché. Thing is tho…I think we all hate it b/c it doesn’t hold us accountable. Eh it’s fine.

Unfortunately we wouldn’t have the pretty, surprise, one of the Walk to Remember walks. All up to the of healing and forgiveness individual to each of us.

If for Me that means ive healed all I can and I’m counting on research to help Me out some more maybe I just keep going. Trust Me nothing is forgotten but you do know now that at least you were strong and capable enough to figure all that at all. And—I can do that. Some days aren’t that kind.

Maybe it becomes a goal we never anticipated but ✔ your resilience at the ticket line and saddle up, honey.this donkey only holds ____ lbs. let some things Go. That thing will still only walk in a circle but you’ve evenly distributed your baggage.

The feeling of pure joy. Which btw does still require a thesaurus b/c it is NOT the same as joy. Like a preventative Med to an acute one.

Then feel Accomplishment.

Not knowing what’s next but trying to be prepared.

It’s a surprise party we never RSVP’d and don’t regret it.

And it’s a Good thing u got outbid for that yacht.

Hell, tho, you won’t be forgotten but pushing helps the donkey move faster for now that is acceptable.

Unshun. Reshun. (This will make sense if you Watch the Office)

Flee fly. Be gone. Thankfully we hope to come out more resilient after the rip and tear and often not fully repaired sewing lessons.

But perhaps the biggest trait I’ve had to work on is My Pride. I want to do it.

I’ll give myself 3 strikes. 4 balls.

Then I walk to First.

Please do not get Me a gift.

I Love you and that was so sweet.

Would I be as generous?

Do u work, yea. It’s just one really hurts more and being tough isn’t tough at all if it’s not helping the worst hurt.

Those are sitting down, timeout thoughts.

The compression socks need to breathe.

But once the Pride slides over, let go, I get to know how it feels to very tangibly be taken care of and watched over.

Patience. The other side of a rant.

Later on that.

My main goal is to learn. Connect. Be called out if something comes off really tasteless.

Laugh at things that don’t have anything to do with being chronically sick. Laugh about what Medicine u had to administer and royally failed.

Sometimes all coupled with a handicap car-tag. No crutches either b/c I don’t like hearing I Will get better. It is a nice statement but it is impossible to be sure. Ive struggled with that b/c I know everyone believes that and means well I’ve just taken prior sick Gentry’s generalization and multiplied.

I am not making light. I think part of me is using the sarcasm as a coping mechanism.

Praise God there is something that does help the pain or at least distract from that Pain just not the one in your legs.

A codependency just a bit less severe. Embarrassing. Reason for judgment. Too easy.

If you can believe it—-I am not the same person I was 2 years ago.

For now I truly don’t know how. Pain can leave, anything traumatic can be worked on. You’ve got your scars.

I actually really think a scar is just unique as a snowflake or fingerprint. Telling so many stories. B/c a scar does mean something has healed. And it never forgets at one time it was painful. I’d prefer to see what I accomplish but I see wonder and beauty in them.

Things get pretty deep, complicated and downright pitifully sad. Vulnerable. Frighteningly true and relevant.

So I take what Good I can get in that day and pray those with LHC (Long-Haul COVID-19)

Be released.

However. On the flip tail’s side.

I’m 35 years aware there are some people who just don’t like me.

Until recently I wouldn’t have meant ‘sorry not sorry.’

I do now. To a respectable extent.

Reader discretion is advised. I promise I never set out to hurt anyone.

definitely not on purpose.

Because. Idgaf. Not bars being held. Que sera, sera.

complete transparency and seriously tho this doesn't mean i dont care. i wear my heart on my sleeve like a ding-dong ready to get hurt.

call it a diversion. we were on a break.

i just might take all of whatever hits wrong and turn that in to whatever ounce of assurance I can with the openness and to the best capability to learn new things and grow with compassion.

And back to writing—may already be just engrained but I don’t ever have a thesis, 3 supporting ideas or a better word then a conclusion.

You might find yourself confused. Reading it again prob won’t help.

Some will be really bad. Ugly. Waste of time. it was at least therapeutic for me.

Already is.

Even more might not make sense.

Read at your own risk, basically.

I have confidence but not really. Just enough not to care to change.

But I think about it. Because I’m wrong a lot.

challenge me. ill try to get through the fog.

But a lot of things have changed. in ways i might not even know Beauty in the Mess.

To sum up the above (sorry, there won’t be another summary after this disclaimer’s commercial intermission.)

I want to be as positive as possible.

Be in control of what I can. Ask for help for what I cannot.

I’m so ready to get My Life back. Trust Me and trust anyone Who tells your theyre in constant pain.

Really embarrassing I used to kind of scoff and be empathetic.

Funny how youre so sure of things.

Until it happens to you.

Suddenly it’s back to the drawing board and humility.

I wear my ღ on my sleeve. My greatest superpower and kryptonite.

What you read is as close to what you get as possible.

Balance can be unfair.

Please know that I care. I try harder than I ever had before. There are things I didn’t even Imagine could happen to someone when sick.

In all the ways I want to come out of this even better than what I envy I was entering into when I got sick.

There will be a WIDE range of thoughts similar to how i write. Mostly Sports and public figures and the politics I can comprehend.

B/c I know there’s someone out there who’s homeless because of this diagnosis. Or was deadly. Fired.

Divorced.

Ive become a bit of a nerd. Childish in some ways b/c you have to be creative…to be creative.

How do I even Start philosophizing that? So I don’t.

So I try My best to be the best I can. Inspire. Elicit laughter and new ways of thinking.

Questions.

Really tho? I just wanna be me.

thank you so sincerly to anything fromn a meme to a gift to a hug a prayer a smile, company, vibes if they can travel

but most of all

for holding hope when ive not been strong enough to.

For better or worse

for loving me.

making me feel heard.

idk what tomorrow holds but if its the same as today ill know at least i can make it and i am still beyond blessed and cared for and loved unconditionally.

even if forever.

wanna feel free, free.

to be me unabandoned.

changed for the better without knowing it.

some people dont have that option.

or even less the resource or safety to write about it.

Lastly mostly—I’m thankful for Insurance and the ability and privilege to work from home. And. Still have a job in general.

A Family and Family reserves holding me.

gentry.gonna.gents/g3

next. and if you made it this far, bless you.

thank you.

you mean more than you know to me. to anyone miscellaneous thanks as well and to my family and extended family and friends and job and insurance.

im in better shape than a lot. perspective sucks in the throes. selfish not selfish but my gosh turn the lights off. each journey is sooo different, but idk find the goodness and inspiration inbtw. There will be a rainbow soon enough, I wont make the bold claim and promise you one tho,

semi lastly and vulnerably, we've all been hurt. all going through something.

I say this every time something really bad happens. Ya know the ‘this is even worse,’ talk.

This one holds every candle.

Funny not funny none are the same and you’re never fully prepared.

and no one knows what it is you’re dealing.

give grace when I can’t sometimes.

cliché’s be damned lets just golden rule it b/c that one’s hard to do too but it sounds cute and Idont see a periodic table saying A! U! Be nice and welcoming.

I know I’ve forgotten something.

So I’ll fight.

But I still get to complain.

Feeling so entitled to this ill.

Sincerely,

Gentry

no ps you're welcome

#first blog #chronic illness #hope #authenticity #love #long covid #honesty hour #mental health #health and wellness #sports #kentucky #family #work from home #inspiration #freedom #respect #best doctors #covid19 #covid #random #sappy #politics #shoes #sunglasses #shirts #electronic #christianity #progressive politics #peace

[password-door-lock]

I NEED to see more interactions with saeran and his fans, they were so funny

[Okay! I'm always down to write more about idol Unknown. Enjoy!]

Unknown sends you the same text that he always sends when he’s about to initiate a livestream for his fans: going live now. It goes without saying that you leap at the chance to see him, though you have no clue why he feels the need to notify you every time he goes live. This is part of his job, just like the performances he's been giving several nights a week since the beginning of his tour and the ad campaign he did for C&R's teacup subsidiary last month. He’s in a hotel room somewhere in the USA, and a little bit of quick mental math on your part tells you that in the local timezone, it’s either very late or very early, depending on whether he's slept or not. You assume that the oversized T-shirt he’s wearing is part of his pajamas, but per usual, you have no explanation for the leather choker or the studded bracelets. Maybe he considers them an integral part of his brand. He’s eating something out of a takeout container and glaring at the camera: classic Unknown. 

You watch as comments flood the box below the video feed. Hi from Brazil! flashes by, along with similar comments from fans who hail from Germany, Canada, South Africa, Singapore, and of course South Korea— and those are just the ones that you're able to catch before they're replaced by new messages from other commenters. You lose track before you can read them all, but you're certain that Unknown has viewers on every continent. Several of his Australian fans are sending him love, also, though a few of them also seem concerned about what time it is for him and why he's apparently going live in the middle of the night. Soon, Unknown is being bombarded with questions about his nocturnal streaming habits from every corner of the globe. “Wow, you’re all happy to see me,” he observes. “You must not have very much going on right now.” 

You snort. Be nice, you text him. You watch him smirk as he glances down at his phone, though he offers no verbal or written response. The comment section is dominated by people telling him not to get down on himself, assuring him that these livestreams are the highlight of his fans’ days. “I’m very happy to be here,” Unknown announces, though he doesn’t sound like it. 

What city are you in now? someone asks. “Hmmm. What city am I in?” Unknown seems to consider this. He walks to the window and pulls back the curtains, though with how his camera is angled, you can’t see anything but the night sky outside. He closes the window and then sits back down. “No clue.” 

His chat fills with people informing him that he just performed the first of three consecutive shows in Detroit— many of these commenters also take the liberty of letting him know how well he did.  “You people say I’m in Detroit,” he reports. “That must be right. You all know so much better than I do.” He sounds patronizing, like he’s mocking his fans for knowing his tour schedule— which would be weird coming from any other celebrity, but you’re beginning to think that Unknown’s fans would be confused and alarmed if he didn’t talk down to them. Like the ever-present leather jewelry, the condescension is practically a part of his brand.  

Get some rest, please, someone says, you look so tired. “I can’t get any rest,” Unknown explains, picking at his meal with a plastic fork. “I'm busy eating. But I’m getting bored, so you should ask me more questions, hm?” A big part of his role as an idol is fostering connections with fans. If that weren't the case, Unknown probably wouldn't be inviting strangers to pry for information of any kind.

Do you love us? someone has the audacity to ask, though Unknown ignores that comment. Several of his fans tell him how happy they are that he’s getting good meals on tour, and you can’t help but agree— you often worry that Unknown might not be getting enough to eat, whether he’s holed up at home or holed up in a hotel room on another continent. What are you eating? This particular commenter seems to have a better understanding of the types of inquiries that Unknown is willing to entertain. He waves his hand, dismissing the question altogether. “I don’t know. Fries with gravy on it.” 

Poutine? several commenters suggest. “Mmhm, maybe.” Despite yourself, you think it’s cute that Unknown somehow managed to acquire an entire takeout container of the dish without knowing what it was. It’s junk food, so there’s no way Rika bought it for him; he must have just gone into a random shop and chosen off the menu, or asked someone from his team to bring it to him. Since he doesn’t have to worry about his permanent address getting leaked by delivery drivers, maybe he feels comfortable ordering takeout to his hotel rooms on tour. 

He then returns to scanning his comment section. “What… do you do with all your smashed guitars?” Unknown reads in a low voice. He’s going to be the death of you, and apparently, his fans feel the same, because the chat floods with hearts and heart-eyes emojis. “What’s all the hearts for?” He demands. “I didn’t do anything.” His fans continue sending hearts. “Stop it,” Unknown orders. “I’ll let you know when I want you to send hearts.” The barrage of emojis ends abruptly. The grip that this man has over his chat gives you whiplash. 

“Anyway,” Unknown says, “After I smash my guitars, I just leave them at the venue.” 

It takes about fifteen seconds for the fans in the chat to start plotting to go try to scrape every venue Unknown has ever played at for leftover smashed-up guitars. You should give them to your fans, someone in the chat suggests. “Why?” Unknown seems genuinely confused, though still patronizing, as always. “What do you want my garbage for?” 

The fans seem to be trying their best to explain that they consider every instrument Unknown has destroyed to be an artifact of rock and roll history; he just rocks in his chair and rolls his eyes while he waits for them to finish. “You people are so weird,” he decides. “But if you find one of my old guitars, you should sell it online. Someone will buy it for a lot of money, and you can use that to get a guitar that actually works.” He pauses, apparently to scan the comments again, before returning his attention to his poutine. “Anyway, I’m leaving now,” he announces, apparently bored of the conversation. “I'm too busy for this.” 

When he ends the livestream, his fans are still losing their minds about the fact that he actually said something close to goodbye this time. From your understanding, Unknown’s custom is to log off abruptly with no warning, usually offering a sentence or two of cryptic nonsense before doing so. You waste no time in whipping out your phone to text him. 

MC: You’re so weird lol 

He wastes no time in responding. 

Unknown: Maybe, prince(ss) 

Unknown: But you love me. 

You can practically hear the smug smile in his words— and yet, you don’t have the guts to tell him just how right he is.

#Another addition to the gummy worms cinematic universe #This is set in the middle of the story when Unknown is still on tour #I just don't think Saeran would interact that much with his fans after the end of Gummy Worms tbh #mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble

[neodiji]

Wow, life.

Work is a mess, but I still don't see myself doing anything else. There is a teacher shortage FOR A REASON (well, several reasons...) and it is well-documented, yet nobody actually does anything about it. More duties are added to our plates that we need to complete on our own time, and it just isn't manageable. We don't have planning time anymore because we have meetings and other tasks to do. Teaching has always been like this to some extent, but it just keeps getting worse. Additionally, due to aforementioned teacher shortage, class sizes are larger so that makes the workload heavier just by itself (more students to take into account, assess, track data on, communicate with families about, learn their styles, etc.) We're also not really allowed to give consequences for misbehavior anymore, which makes classroom management harder -- but then we're evaluated on keeping the kids "controlled" during our official observations, so there is a huge disconnect there. To be fair, the system itself has been failing for decades. It just. Keeps. Getting. Worse.

Yet...YET...I live for the moments when my kids' eyes light up about reading, or when they master something that was originally difficult for them. I love when they beg to do more math in their "free time" and when they ask me to play learning games at recess. I love teaching them to celebrate themselves and take pride in working hard. I love when my shy students finally find their voices, or when my impulsive kids use their calm-down strategies and words instead of their hands to solve problems. I adore hearing from families, "Wow, you are making such a difference in my child's life. He comes home now and he WANTS to read..." I love that I have four or five of my kids from my class last year who make it a point to come give me a hug every morning before the day starts, even though their new classroom this year is on a different hallway.

Teaching is so hard, but it's worth it to me. I absolutely could not handle this job if I was married with kids though. It's a good thing I'm aroace and have no desire for the "traditional lifestyle."

Personal-life-wise, my parents' health have been declining. They are in hospitals or skilled nursing facilities more than anywhere else. When they are home, they need around-the-clock care. It is so draining to be a caregiver. I feel depleted. My daily schedule for the past 7 months has been "teach all day (which is already a demanding job) and then go to the hospital/SNF/home and see to their extensive needs all evening and night." I taught summer school too, because I am in desperate need of money. I'm so lucky my sister takes over during the day, so I can keep working and I don't lose my job. This lifestyle is B R E A K I N G me though. I am so exhausted. I am not my best teacher self when I'm so tired and emotionally drained. I am not my best self, period, when I'm trying to take care of so many other people that "self-care" is basically nonexistent.

But...BUT...I have been writing more. Writing SuzaLulu is helping me cope, and it's what I'm choosing to do in my moments of Me Time (usually Saturday evenings, when my brother can come over and take over Parent Duty). It's so different from writing Blackmail. I am not planning or agonizing over my writing. I just type what I want, and it's just for fun so there are no expectations. I can't fail. Plot doesn't make sense? Whatever, it's just fanfic. It's amazing. I am enjoying writing these idiots again. I do feel nostalgic for the Code Geass fandom experience from years ago, but I'm also loving starting to make new connections and embracing how things currently are. Fandom is a wonderful escape from the pressures of daily life. So in that respect, I am choosing to write for self-care. So that's what I call personal progress.

Also, as much as I hate this care-giving lifestyle, I am more appreciative than ever for my siblings. I also am proud of myself for rising to the occasion and doing my part. I'm glad I have learned so much about cancer and my parents' other health conditions that I might be able to help someone else in the future going through a similar situation. I am also appreciative of my colleagues, who have been understanding and supportive of what I'm going through at home. Sometimes life is dark, but it helps to actively think about the light shining through. And there are several stars in the night sky.

And, one of my biggest positives is that I'm buying my first home. We're trying to get my parents into assisted living because it's high time, which means I can then focus more on my own life. And when they sell the family home, I'll need somewhere to go. And I'm lucky enough that I've been able to save enough over the years to make this move possible. Even with all the stress, I am very, very, VERY excited about the little townhouse I'm about to own.

Seriously. If someone wants to come squee with me about my new home and help me plan/decorate, I would love it. My siblings are so drained that they're really not up for it, and my parents aren't always in their right minds anyway. My colleagues are happy for me, but they are spending time with their own families over winter break. I would love to talk about color scheme and buying used furniture and possible room arrangement and finally, finally, FINALLY making a safe place of my own.

My absolute biggest positive? With my mom away in the hospital so often, Nimbus has discovered that I exist. Even when my mom is home, Nimbus chooses to follow me, to cuddle me, to purr at me. There were a few years there where even though he was officially my cat, it didn't feel like it because he didn't care about me. Now, he does. It's nice that my cat had a change of heart for the better. It's amazing to be cuddled. I need the love.

#Personal #Life Update