#I am posting this at 5 AM right after sobering up because I know I will not post it any other time. Sorry for eventual morning self reblog.

[mostautisticsinner]

Finally posting these. Once more, I did draw these immediately after the teaser came out, yes,

#Hong Lu LCB #K Corp Hong Lu #Limbus Company #Project Moon #Scribbles #Corvusart #Yes I am a homosexual. Can you tell. -Corvus #I am posting this at 5 AM right after sobering up because I know I will not post it any other time. Sorry for eventual morning self reblog.

[b4tracha]

Dressing Rooms (S.CB x M! Reader)

Dom! Seo Changbin x Sub!Male! Reader

 (Reader will have a penis in this. I hope everyone enjoys and I am sorry for not posting as often. Exams will be over the first full week of December so I will be posting more afterward <3)

You have been an employee of JYP Entertainment for the past year, and it was almost unbelievable how kind everyone is. When you first got into the industry, people would warn you about how the people in different companies would treat staff. However, none of your higher-ups or idols made you feel that way.

Your first group was Itzy, but they decided to switch you to Stray Kids for 5-star and Rock-Star. The members treated you almost like another member in the short time you have known each other. You were also a young man, a mere 00 liner, and trying to work in hard environments. 

Since you met the group, they would invite you out and you got especially close to a certain member. Changbin, for once, was taller than someone and he would tease you while making sure you were fine with it. He would cuddle and flirt with you no matter how bashful you got. Honestly, he got worse when you more embarrassed.

Somewhere in September, you both started to hook up. While drunk, he confessed that he realize he liked men a while ago, but was never had the chance to hook up with one. You suggested, just as drunk, that maybe you didn’t mind hooking up with him. It didn’t happen then but once you both were sober, you guys finally became friends with benefits.

You couldn’t hook up as often, but when it did happen..

He always blew your mind.

“Y/N~” A voice whined behind you. It would be Changbin who messed up his outfit about twenty minutes before they went on. 

 You were trying to make sure their outfits were put on correctly and wouldn’t fall apart on stage. That happened too often because of how energetic they are and you didn’t want it to happen again. You have already fixed Lee Know’s shirt at least twice. 

“Yes, hyung?” You turned from your small inspections, nearly running into Changbin. You both were nearly chest to chest with how close you were. “Oh, Binnie-hyung- Sorry, I didn’t know you were right behind me..” 

You pulled back and Changbin simply kept smiling at you, shrugging before going back to whining, “There’s something wrong with my pants~” You sighed and went to look before he grabbed your hand and whispered in your ear. “Needs to be in a private room. The noonas shouldn’t see this.” 

Of course.

You grabbed your supplies just in case there was a tear or something to patch up and guided the older man to an empty dressing room. He locked the door behind him just incase and you bent over and sat everything down and set everything in their right place.

Suddenly you felt a hand rubbing your ass. You were used to this from Lee Know, so you rolled your eyes and went about your work before you felt his hands grab your waist and brush something hard right on your ass. You froze, trying to figure out what was going on and slowly turned your head.

“Here..?” You whispered. He has always had a thing for trying to hook up in public places. There were time where you both would go out to eat and would suck him off in the bathroom, but it was never at work. Though, you were wearing a plug for later. Changbin suggested to go out after their pre-recording and you didn’t have time to go home, you fingered yourself open just incase he wanted to do something.

“Yeah.. I have too much adrenaline, prince.” You shivered. You loved when he called you that. His cock was only chubbing up more as he grinded against your clothed butt. “I need a release.”

He bent down across your back and whispered once again in your ear, “I can feel the plug inside of you anyways. How about you give Sir what you want?”

You whimpered, hands shaking at the thought. Your head was already spin and you were just being dry humped. “Okay..”

He chuckled and smacked your ass before pulling away. You both knew you didn’t have enough time to do anything special, so you simply unbuttoned your pants and pulled down your pants and boxers. Your small cock was starting to get hard as well as you spit and started to jerk yourself off slowly. 

“Good boy.” He hummed before smacking your ass. It wasn’t hard or that loud but the action made you moan. Changbin grabbed your ass aggressively before speading your cheeks apart and looking at the delight that he’s been thinking about almost all day. “Plug looks delicious in your hole, prince. You should wear them more often for me.”

“Yes sir.” The words slipped from your lips easily. It was always easy to submit to Changbin. The male teased your hole, pulling out the plug mid-way before pushing it back inside. You bit your lip aggressively trying not to be too loud. As much as it felt good, you didn’t want to lose your job. Your legs started to shake below you, but he just wrapped his strong arms around you and held you up to take the torture.

“You’re sucking it in like a little slut. You love having something in your hole all the time, hm?” He groaned at the sight. He licked his lips and finally pulled it out. Your ass clenched over nothing, wet and slick for something bigger to fill it. He guided you to a dresser and bent you over. You glanced up at the mirror infront of you, watching the tears in your eyes and hunger in Changbin’s right behind you. “Are you ready?”

“Yes Sir.. I’m ready for you to fuck me..” You whimpered and shook your hips in hopes he would hurry up and get inside of you already. He removed the hair from his eyes and pulled something from his pocket. He showed you in the mirror as if you should know what it was.

You turned and noticed it was lube. Fuck, you were so needy that you forgot you needed that. Even if you used extra earlier, you still needed more right now. He unzipped his pants and pulled them and his boxers down just at his thigh so he wouldn’t get anything on his pants. His cock was standing at attention, rock hard, red, angry and leaking. Changbin opened the bottle of lube and squirted the substance on his fingers before caressing it on his cock. 

You took your hands spread yourself apart to help the male behind you and whined at him through the mirror. “Please sir, I need your cock. Breed me?”

Changbin groaned at the words, eyes rolling back. He blinked back before adjust your position and pushing inside slowly. The stretch was slight painful, but it felt so good in a masochistic type of way. The older man sunk inside until his balls touched your thighs, all the way inside. “Fuck you’re tight, prince. Tell me when you’re ready.”

Your eyes were clouded with tears, shaking at the feeling of him splitting you open so good. You didn’t need time to adjust, you needed him to fuck you stupid. “Fuck me. Please, sir..” Your voice shook heavily as the spit in your mouth poured from your mouth down your chin.

 The man chuckled and grabbed your hips tightly to the point where you’re probably going to see bruises later and slowly pulled out almost all the way before slamming back inside.

You both moaned out in sync before he started up his rhythm. It was hard and rough, causing your body to jerk each time he pushed back inside. You could only whimper and whine with your teeth biting down into your lip in fear you would scream from the constant thrusts. From the start he was hitting your prostate one thrust after another. It usually took your other hookups a short bit to find yours, but from the first time Changbin found it almost immediately. 

“Shit.. you’re clenching all around me. You must want me to cum deep inside you, hm?” His words were like waves, moving in and out of your ears. You could barely understand what he was saying to you. Once you process the words, you immediately whined loudly and nodded quickly. You needed his cum so bad. You wanted it in your stomach so bad..

“Sir.. please..” You whispered hoarsely, hoping Changbin could understand what you were saying to him. Your stomach was starting to tighten hard to the point it almost hurt. You started to reach your peak already. It wasn’t a surprise, he usually pushed you past overstimulation until he would finally cum. It wasn’t uncommon where he would pull two or three orgasms from you before he came himself. “I’m so close.. I need to cum..”

“Already? Of course, that’s so pathetic.” He spit at you, knowing you loved the slight degradation whilst sneaking his hand under you to start jerking you off to help. “Luckily for you, I am close too. I’m going to cum too. Going to breed you, Y/N..”

“Please..” You begged, legs shaking and drooling down your chin and chest until it hit the dresser. He went quiet behind you, trying to focus on his thrusts and hurrying up. You both already took too long and you’d need time to clean up after this. You more than him, however. 

 He flicked his thumb over your sensitive tip during a certain hard thrust and you jerked under him, feeling that feeling in your stomach suddenly snap. A long, soft moan poured from your lips as you finally came. Your cum filled his hand as your ass clenched around his cock aggressively. The feeling of you squeezing him gave him just the right amount of pleasure to finally flood inside you. 

His hips snapped inside of you, cock letting stream after stream leak inside. Deep breaths filled the air from you both. It was hard to catch your breath when everything was still so hot. He grunted at the feeling of his softenign dick still being clenched around. He slowly pulled out and grabbed a cloth and soap that was near one of the sinks and wiped himself down as best as he could. He could hope he was decent enough to be let on stage.

Once he was situated with his pants up and stainless, he wiped you down as well. The plug slipped back inside of you once you were cleaned up enough. He whispered soft praises and kissed behind your ear or your back. Your eyes were unfocused with unshed tears still there. Your legs shook softly as you left your entire body weight on the dresser, letting him do what he needed. He always did well aftercare for you. 

Changbin fixed your clothes for you and laid you on the couch. Once your body hit the couch, the feeling of exhaustion rushed in. Your eyes had mini weights as you grabbed a throw pillow to use for your head. You needed a nap, he fucked you so good. 

“Hey prince, can you hear me?” You softly looked up at him and nodded with a little smile. “Good. I’m going to leave you here and say you got sick and need to stay away from everyone.”

“Okay..” You whispered and closed your eyes. You were already half asleep. The male above you smiled softly before moving away.. “I love you, hyung..”

His heart skipped a beat at the sleepy confession. “I love you too, prince.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x male reader #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmim #yang jeongin #dom!skz #sub reader #stray kids x reader #straykids #stray kids smut #kpop x male reader #kpop x reader

[artsyunderstudy]

An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIP(s)

Thanks for tagging me @cutestkilla @ivelovedhimthroughworse @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @valeffelees @emeryhall @monbons @thewholelemon @whatevertheweather @aristocratic-otter @bookish-bogwitch @orange-peony @shrekgogurt @wellbelesbian @theearlgreymage @ic3-que3n - I definitely shouldn't be procrastinating writing because I'm overdue but I'm a sucker for a good Q&A.

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s):

I technically have a handful of WIPs I haven't given up on posting but I'm not actively working on. Après la Pluie, le Beau Temps is the one I'm actively working on. I'm in the planning stages with All the Lonely People which is a fic I'm planning to cowrite with @cutestkilla my beloved. Then I have Sober, Water Grey, Close Your Eyes, and A Mild Case of Madness (yes I haven't given up on AMCOM I was actually thinking I'd try and finish it up after I'm done posting Après)

I don't actually work on more than one fic at a time but I also had like a flood of ideas once I was done writing Someone Wicked and that's why the pile of WIPs. Also I was trying to do discovery writing and realized that I hate it.

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Why is this so hard???

Okay. Um.

Roommates who (pretend to) hate each other + alcohol induced vulnerability = publicly getting off with each other on a stranger's couch in the middle of a rager, probably to the dulcet sounds of goosebumps by travis scott.

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

Amazingly my current WIP doesn't really require much bracing. But I am still intending very much to complete Sober (working title) which I talked a lot about last year. That would come with warnings for grief, alcohol and sexual assault. Which makes it sound so much worse than it is, but then again I always think that my writing isnt actually that sad but then i have people telling me i ripped their heart out of their chest and chewed on it so im not a good judge of that. i will say it definitely has more jokes than my usual fare.

4. 🧭An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)?

I am very decisive when it comes to titles, so I genuinely cant think of anything. I guess Sober, because I'm not sure that's the right title for the fic because it's not about addiction. It's about drunken hookups (and like, definitely some alcohol as a coping mechanism but like, mostly just uni students partying and going too hard as they are wont to do) so I was thinking of making it longer like "Kiss Me When You're Sober" but I dunno. It's not even close to done so I don't have to decide yet.

5. ⚠️Which WIP you're most likely to finish or update next?

Après la Pluie, le Beau Temps is the fic I'm actively working on and I'm going to post this guy next come hell or high water. It's just taking me a while, I'm a bit burnt out. But things they will come.

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

All my documents are the fic titles so nothing really fun there.

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

“If you’re going to do this, do you actually trust him? After everything he’s done to you. Everything you’ve done to each other.” I sigh. “I don’t know.”  All the things I’ve always believed I hated about him feel different now, filtered through a new lens. His relentlessness, his sharp edges, his poise. The way he moves across the pitch, and plays his violin, sweet-toned and sorrowful. The singe of his magick.  “I just … see him,” I say quietly. “And I know I want him. The way I’m supposed to.”

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP.

I don't know, I don't think I've scrapped any ideas for this WIP yet? Actually, I think earlier on in the planning I had wanted to have Niall and Dev being absolutely gross with their PDA through the whole thing, but I ended up writing a completely different side-story for them that's genuinely a ton better. Basically, they were a gag, and now they have an actual arc.

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Gonna mirror Dre here, we have been planning a fic to cowrite but we both have other fanfic obligations to fulfill first, so it's a little bit on the backburner until we are both freed up. Again, to parrot her, it's a canonverse AU based on a movie we both adore, older (late 30's) strangers to lovers, a ghost story but in a cathartic way, not a scary way, developing relationship. We have a shared trello and I can't help but daydream about it. I am so very very eager to start working on it in earnest.

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on?

One, actively. Two if you count the fic with Dre which we occasionally can't help but get into long discussions about.

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

I am currently writing a genre I've never written before which has just been a little daunting. As well as this first chapter has zero simon or baz, probably, and THAT is hard too. But it has to be that way. For the setup. It just means I'm having to learn how to write a lot of side characters in a way I haven't done before, like Niamh and Niall (since i have a bit of experience with agatha and dev)

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send.

Everyone deserves so many many kudos.

Tags! @hushed-chorus @run-for-chamo-miles @j-nipper-95 @noblecorgi @facewithoutheart and @stitchyqueer <3

#tag game #artsyfic

[teaberrii]

Chapter 5: Secrets Between Us

You've been Cupid for as long as you can remember. You've brought countless soulmates together, yet you've never found love.

When you're assigned to bring two childhood friends back together, it should be simple until you unexpectedly catch feelings for the mysterious and cold Ph.D. student, Dan Heng, the man with a soulmate… the man with answers to your past.

Dan Heng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

By the time you return to Xianzhou, it's already evening. Walking across campus, you can't stop thinking about what Himeko told you. Regardless, you've made up your mind. You aren't going to shy away, no matter what lies ahead. You've been searching for answers to your past for God knows how long; your efforts will be for nothing if you back out now.

You enter one of the science buildings, where you'll use the walkway on the second floor as a shortcut to the station. You're about to head to the elevator when you see Dan Heng sitting at one of the tables with his laptop open and papers beneath it. His hair looks more tousled than usual, and you can see his concentration starting to wane.

You come up behind him. Then, you lean forward and say, “It’s also important to take breaks.”

Dan Heng turns around, and you stand upright. “...What are you doing here?”

“...Had something I had to do." When you look at the empty seat across from him, he subtly nods for you to sit down. So, as you do, you ask, “Are you working on your research?”

Dan Heng closes his laptop. “...That’s right.” Should you ask if he remembers what happened that night you went for drinks? Then, as if reading your mind, he looks you in the eyes. “I didn’t forget about our conversation the other night.”

“Guess you weren’t as drunk as I thought.”

Then, a ghost of a smile graces his lips. “It’s still my turn.”

“...Fine.” You cross one leg over the other. Then, jokingly, “I guess I have time to humour you.”

“Oh? Is that what it is?” Dan Heng asks with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “I thought you were making time since you approached me first.”

“I think I like you better when you’re drunk.”

A slight smirk tugs at his lips. “Yet, when I was, you said you liked me better than when I was sober.” He leans slightly forward. “So, which is it, Cupid?”

"Neither," you mutter. Though your face is slightly red, unbeknownst to you.

Dan Heng leans back. “...I’d like to know about the sparkle in your eyes. What is it, exactly?”

Well, Gepard knows, so you don't see why you should hide it from Dan Heng. 

"It's something that happens when I look into someone's desires." You're expecting a confused look, a question, or a sarcastic remark you're messing with him. But his slightly curious look doesn't change. "...I saw your desire to find a cure for The Withering the first day we met."

“...Assuming what you said is true, why did you do that? Look into my desires?”

"One question at a time." Dan Heng frowns slightly, which almost makes you chuckle. After a slight pause, you ask, "...What happened at the hospital?"

“...My professor told me they’ve admitted a patient diagnosed with The Withering. So, I went to see them as it would be good for my research.”

You’re expecting a little more, but when Dan Heng remains silent, you ask, "That's it?"

"Looks like you're just as impatient as I am."

“Fine.” You cross your arms. “Have it your way.” You catch that subtle smile, and you frown.

“My question is the same as before. Why are you interested in my desires?”

“...Because I had to know more about you.” When you see Dan Heng raise a brow, you quickly add, “It’s not what you think it is.”

“I’m not thinking anything.”

“Oh, really?” you deadpan.

Then, he smiles. “Your turn.”

“...Do you know this patient?”

Dan Heng exhales softly. “...I do. But, I can’t tell you who it is.”

It’s not like you really need to know who. At least this explains why he’s so down.

“It must be hard,” you say quietly. “...I’m sorry.”

“...It’s why I have to make progress. I know finding a cure is impossible at this stage. But, I have to narrow the gap.”

You think about telling him about what you can do. Will it help? You think back to when you granted a desire to save another person's life. While it happened, it didn't last long. That person eventually died by other means. Dan Heng will probably find a temporary cure if you grant his wish. But… will that really save that person in the long run?

“...Cupid.” You look up and see Dan Heng looking at you. “Something wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” Then, your tone turns flat. “Let me guess… are you going to ask why I had to know more about you?”

“Close enough. Why me and not Gepard or anyone else?”

“Because I’m here for a job.” Now, you exhale softly. “...But, I can’t tell you what it is.”

“...Only that it involves me?”

You nod. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to murder you.”

“I’d think if you were, you would’ve done so that night.”

“Weelll, I don’t know. Gepard told me you’re into Kendo.” You chuckle. “I might have to be careful of you.”

“...Are you into any sports?”

"I wouldn't call myself athletic, but… I'm not that bad, either. Who knows? Maybe I'll take up Kendo and kick your butt."

A slight smirk tugs at his lips. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Perhaps.”

“I hope you won’t regret it.”

“...Doesn't this mean you need a teacher?”

You blink once. Twice. Is he recommending someone? Or…

“I… suppose.” Then, jokingly, “Don’t tell me you’re helping the enemy.”

“...I can teach you.”

“Now I’m sure you’re out to sabotage me.”

Dan Heng crosses one leg over the other. “You admitted that you’re here because of a job that involves me. Who’s the one that should be nervous?”

“So, you’re planning on keeping an eye on me?”

You catch his small smile. “Make of it as you will.” Then, after a short pause, he asks, “...Do you have any more questions?”

It’s a stretch, but you thought you’d ask. “Do you know someone named Young?”

“No. Why?”

“...Just curious.”

“Is he someone you know?”

“...Good question,” you say quietly. “Anyway, don’t worry about it.” You take out your phone and glance at the time. “It’s getting late. Are you heading home?” When he stays silent, you frown. “Don’t tell me you’re going to stay overnight.”

“I guess Gepard’s been keeping you updated."

"...He's worried about you. When I talked to March the other day, she was also worried. And…" When Dan Heng looks you in the eyes, you look away. "...It is a little worrisome."

“Are you worried?”

“Gosh, I don’t know, Dan Heng. We’re friends, and you’ve been staying overnight at campus with… what? Just a laptop?”

“...I know of a comfortable place to sleep if that’s any reassurance.”

“You know what I mean,” you deadpan. Then, your tone relaxes. “I know you’ve been working on your research, but it’s important to take care of yourself, too.”

Then, your phone buzzes with a message.

Pom: DINNER IS READYY

And then there's a picture of a few dishes on the table… along with Pom, who has his arms spread out and looks proud of his work. Wait a minute. Who's the one taking the photo?

You see Dan Heng take out his phone. Then, he glances at you. “...Looks like Gepard’s with Pom.”

Your phone buzzes again.

Pom: Group dinner date! See if you can get Dan Heng to come over 😀

You show the message to him. “Are you really going to say no to Pom?”

Dan Heng looks at you. “...Guess I don’t have a choice.”

“Good. I don’t know how good his cooking is, so I need someone to potentially suffer with me.”

Dan Heng slips his laptop inside his bag. “Gepard isn’t enough?”

“You’d come looking for him if he went missing,” you joke as you and Dan Heng leave the school building.

“Right. The first person I’d come find is you.”

“Why me?”

“...I’d think I could get more out of you than Pom.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Dan Heng suddenly walks and stops in front of you. You almost bump into him, but then you slowly look up and see him staring at you. Then, he leans down to be on eye level with you.

“Am I?”

He's close enough that you notice a faint scar underneath his eye. But then, you meet his gaze, and you can't look away, and that's when you suddenly his eyes flash a sudden pale green…

“...You can’t be friends with their kind.”

You couldn’t see the person you were talking to, but from the deep voice, you assume it was a man.

“He’s not a bad person,” you said.

“He’s not a person,” the mysterious man spat. “He’s not one of us.”

“But—”

“...I’m doing this for your sake. If they catch you with him, they’ll kill him. Is that what you want?”

“...Hey.” Dan Heng’s calm but slightly worried voice pulls you back. You’re back to looking into his blue eyes. “...You're spacing out again.”

"Sorry. I—"

He puts a hand on your forehead, and your eyes widen slightly. "...You don't have a fever."

"I'm fine. Just fine."

Dan Heng watches you walk past him before following you toward the station. What is it about you that piques his interest? Well, there's the obvious: your mysterious job and the surprising revelation that you can see his desires. Does this mean you can peek into them at any time? Because if that's the case, maybe he needs to be more careful.

By the time you and Dan Heng arrive at the apartment, Pom and Gepard have already started eating. And, to your surprise, there haven’t been any casualties.

"It's really not that bad," Gepard says as you sit next to Pom, and Dan Heng sits across from you.

“Did you two bump into each other or…? How'd you end up at our place?" you ask Gepard.

"We don't have that kind of fate like you and Dan Heng," Pom jokes, and you give him a deadpan look. Before you got on the train, you'd told Pom that you met Dan Heng at campus and you're on your way back.

“Pom wasn’t sure if you’d make it in time for dinner,” Gepard says.

“Oh,” you say, looking at Pom. “You just didn’t want to be alone.”

“Well, I didn’t know if Himeko would keep you! Or if Nanook—”

Your cautious look instantly makes him stop. But you and Pom are already aware of Dan Heng and Gepard’s stares at you.

“Are they friends of yours?” Gepard asks.

You and Pom face forward, and you grab some vegetables for your plate. “Sort… of,” Pom says. Then, he clears his throat. “Nanook’s been chasing after her for ages.”

You almost choke on your water. “That’s not true.”

“Nanook… An interesting name,” Gepard says. Then, he chuckles. “This guy must really like you."

You frown. “Trust me. That’s not the case.”

“So, you aren’t seeing anyone then.”

Everyone turns to Dan Heng.

“...No,” you answer.

Then, Pom curiously looks at Gepard and Dan Heng. “What about you two, hm? You two grew up with March and Stelle, right?”

"Don't tell me you think something is going on?" Gepard asks.

“Well, both of them are so pretty!” Pom admits. “I only met them recently… but they’re also quite nice.”

“You met Stelle?”

So, Pom tells him about his chance to work as a security guard at Stelle's fan meet.

“We’re friends,” Dan Heng says. “That’s it.”

"...Here's a question," you say. "Do you believe in soulmates?"

"Why do you ask?" Gepard asks.

You shrug. "Just... something to talk about."

“Well, I don’t,” Gepard says. “It’s a nice fantasy, I suppose.”

“I don’t either,” Dan Heng adds. Then, he looks at you. “...Do you?”

If you aren't who you are, you wouldn't believe in soulmates either. But your job is to bring people destined to be with each other together. You'd questioned your role at first. If people are meant to be with each other, wouldn't they eventually meet? But, apparently, that's not the case, according to Himeko, at least. Still, it's not like you stuck around to see how those relationships turned out. Once they're together, you have no reason to stick around.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly.

"...Your nickname is Cupid, and you don't believe in soulmates?"

“My nickname has nothing to do with that,” you say flatly.

Dan Heng puts his chopsticks down. “Why do people call you Cupid?”

"You'll be going over your limit of twenty questions at this rate."

"...It doesn't have to stop at twenty."

Pom looks from Dan Heng to you and back to you. "Should I answer this one for you, Cupid?” You glance at Pom. “It’s because she’s a matchmaker!”

“Oh? Have you matched people before?” Gepard asks. Then, jokingly, “What’s the success rate?”

“100%!”

Gepard looks at you, impressed. “Wow.” Then, he chuckles. “March has been wanting to get back out there. Maybe she should come to see you.”

“...What about Stelle?” you ask.

“I don’t think she’s seeing anyone,” Gepard says. Then, he nudges Dan Heng. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” Dan Heng says. “...I haven’t talked to her for a while now.”

After dinner, Dan Heng and Gepard offer to help you and Pom clean up. You’re in the kitchen doing the dishes when Dan Heng brings in two more dirty plates. You thought he’d put them on the side and leave, but instead, he puts them in the sink and gently nudges you aside.

“...It’s important to take breaks.” When he looks at you, both of you smile slightly. You’re drying your hands on a towel when Dan Heng says, “...What I told you today… could you keep it a secret?”

Keep what a secret? That’s when it hits you. “You mean… about you knowing the patient at the hospital?”

Dan Heng nods. “...He’s also someone my friends know.”

The thought hits you again. Should you tell him about what you can do? In the end, you say, "...Of course, I'll keep your secret. But in return, there's something I'd like you to do for me."

Dan Heng puts the clean dishes on a rack and turns off the tap. Then, he turns to face you. “I’m listening.”

“You know I’m here because of you. Could you keep that information to yourself? The fewer people know, the better.”

A ghost of a smirk graces his lips. “I see. It’s so no one will suspect you when I disappear.”

“Very funny,” you deadpan. “That’s not going to happen.”

“...When will I find out what you’re here for?”

When you get with Stelle. But instead, you say, “You’ll know.”

“Still going to keep me in the dark, huh?”

“Of course. It wouldn’t be fun otherwise."

“What happens after it’s done?” The question takes you off guard. “...Are you going to leave?”

“That’s usually what happens.” You’re looking away from him now.

“...Would you make an exception?”

The question almost instantly makes you turn back. Eventually, you look at him. "Why do you ask?”

“...I like talking with you.”

You hold his stare."Blunt as always, aren't you?" Dan Heng awkwardly looks away as you say, "Well, I surprisingly enjoy your company, so… I'll think about it."

Dan Heng looks back and sees you smiling mischievously. “...You’re playing with me.”

You laugh. “Aw, come on. It’s better than a no, right?”

Dan Heng leans slightly toward you, so you don’t see his face when he says in a lowered voice, “I’ll turn that into a definite yes.”

“Whatcha talking about in here?”

Dan Heng turns around, and you look past him and see Pom and Gepard at the kitchen doorway with a smile.

“Your face is red,” Pom says.

Everyone turns to you, and you put a hand on your cheek. “No, it’s not.”

Pom smiles. Is he just toying with you, or is your face really red?

“Is there something we weren’t supposed to see?” Gepard asks, and he and Pom smile at each other.

“Or hear?” Pom adds.

Dan Heng walks to the door and looks at Gepard. “We should leave.”

“Already?”

“It’s almost nine,” Dan Heng deadpans.

“Well, we’ll see each other again soon,” Pom says with a little smirk.

“Oh, right. Tomorrow’s the festival,” Gepard says.

“If you’re not busy, why not join us?” Everyone turns to you.

“You know, she’s right! Pom adds. “I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

You give him a deadpan look just as Gepard asks, “Would you mind, Dan Heng?”

“Why would I?”

Gepard chuckles.” Oh, I don’t know…”

You and Pom see Gepard and Dan Heng off at the door. Then, as soon as Pom closes it, he spins around.

“You and Dan Heng are getting along really well. Maybe a little too well.”

“We had a few conversations,” you say, sitting on the couch. “It’s not a big deal.” Then, you sigh. “I… had another vision today.”

Pom sits across from you. “Was it Young?”

“...I don’t know. It was of a man, and I couldn’t see his face. He was telling me I couldn’t be friends with their kind… because they’d kill him. He didn't say who he was referring to."

But you have a hunch.

Pom’s eyes widen. “Kill him? That’s… extreme.”

“...I'm sure he was talking about Young."

“Let me guess… This vision happened when you were talking with Dan Heng?”

You nod. "At campus today.”

“Did Himeko say anything?”

“Only that Young isn’t around anymore. And…”

“And?”

"...I may not like the answers I want to hear."

“...Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all.” Pom sighs. “...Did you ask Dan Heng about him?”

“He said he doesn’t know who that is.”

Pom leans forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands intertwined with each other. “Here’s a thought… what if Dan Heng is a reincarnation of Young? And… maybe you two are destined to meet!”

“...Why does it sound like he’s—”

“Your soulmate?” Pom interrupts almost too happily.

But, that’s impossible… Right?

◆◆◆

"Do you know someone named Young?"

Dan Heng has been thinking about that question since he started showering. Who's Young? Are you looking for him? If so, what does he have to do with him? Once Dan Heng enters his room, dressed in PJs, and with a towel in his damp hair, he hears his phone buzz.

Stelle: Hey. Miss me? 🙂

Dan Heng sits on his bed. Stelle must be worried… or maybe he wants to ask him if he knows what’s happening with her brother. Whatever it is, she must want someone to talk to.

He types a quick reply, but Stelle’s reply is almost quicker.

Stelle: Can we talk?

“How’ve you been?” Stelle asks as soon as she picks up the call.

Could be better. But instead, Dan Heng asks, "Is everything okay?"

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Stelle asks with a small smile. “I can’t call to check up on you?”

“...Well, I’m fine.”

“That’s it? Nothing else? We haven’t spoken in almost a year!”

“My life isn’t as exciting as yours,” Dan Heng says. “I saw the trailer for your upcoming movie… It looks good.”

Stelle chuckles. “You’ll watch it, won’t you? You and Gepard?”

“...We will.”

A small pause.

“Truth is… I called you to ask about my brother. You haven’t talked to him?”

Despite knowing everything, Dan Heng still asks, “...Did something happen?”

“Well, he told me that he’s going to study abroad. Next thing I know, he already left.”

“You’re still in touch with him?”

"Yeah. He doesn't respond very often… but I know he's okay."

Dan Heng feels his chest tighten. “...That’s good.”

“He didn’t tell you anything? I mean… I don’t even know where he went!”

“I don’t. But we’ve been in touch.”

Stelle sighs. “What about Gepard?”

“I think he knows as much as us.”

"...I see." Then, she smiles slightly. "Hey, do you know someone named Pom? He said he knew you two."

After talking briefly about Pom, Dan Heng eventually talks about you and how you're his upstairs neighbour.

“A new friend, huh?” Stelle asks. “She must be something if you two manage to become friends.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know you too well, Dan Heng. Since when do you find time to make new friends?" Stelle smiles. “Are you interested in her?”

“...That’s—”

“You hesitated!”

“I didn’t. I—”

Stelle gasps. “You have to introduce her to me now.”

Well, it can’t hurt, right? Dan Heng hopes it'll take her mind off of Caelus, at least.

◆◆◆

“...Can I touch it?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“But—”

"Are all humans this stubborn? Or, is it just you?" Young asked, turning to you with a deadpan look.

“Just one stroke.”

Suddenly, Young stopped and appeared in front of you, and you almost walk into him if he didn’t suddenly grab your wrist.

“...Watch what you say.”

You sighed just as he released you. “Okay, fine. Sorry. I’m just curious,” you said, looking at the horns on your friend’s head. “I thought we’ve known each other long enough that it wouldn’t be awkward.”

“It’s only been three years,” he said, turning around and continuing the trek.

“Only three years? It’s been three years! I guess you still don’t see me as an important friend.”

Young stopped and turned around. “...Really? You aren't important to me? Then, why am I risking my life to be with you right now?”

"Maybe it's 'cause I saved yours that day. If it weren't for me, you would've been poisoned to death."

“I returned the favour. I didn’t let you get caught.”

Young held your stare for a moment before turning around again.

With a small smile, you quickly walked up and nudged him. “One stroke.”

“No.”

Your eyes open, and you sit up in your bed. Another dream. Another puzzle piece. Another question. When you close your eyes, you immediately see Young… and then Dan Heng. You check your phone. Well, it’s only a few more hours before you see Dan Heng for the festival. You roll over and close your eyes. Yet, all you can see is him, and you wake up in frustration.

Why does it seem like it's only a matter of time before this drives you mad?

Chapter 6

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @tanspostsblog @theprinceofkhaos @nqctre @lunavixia

#dan heng #dan heng x you #dan heng x reader #dan heng x y/n #honkai star rail #honkai star rail dan heng #honkai dan heng #danheng x y/n #danheng x you #danheng fluff #dan heng fluff #danheng x reader

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 5: Sabotage]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

A/N: With the completion of Chapter 5, we are officially 1/3 of the way done with this fic series! In my opinion, things start to get really interesting in Chapter 6 so I am sooooo excited to have reached this little milestone. Thank you so so so much for reading and for your enthusiasm, questions, rants, analyses, theories, memes, and general emotional investment in NTTF. I go back to re-read your comments/tags ALL the time and they help keep me motivated to get new chapters out asap. 🥰💜

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, veterinary medicine, discussions of sex, questionable decisions, Kimmie-related chaos, Trent flexing his athletic skills.

Word count: 5.6k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario​ @meadowofsinfulthoughts​ @ladylannisterxo​ @doingfondue​ @tclegane​ @quartzs-posts​ @liathelioness​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @thelittleswanao3​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @b1gb3anz​ @hinata7346​ @poohxlove​ @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @travelingmypassion​ @graykageyama​ @skythighs​ @lauraneedstochill​ @darlingimafangirl​ @charenlie​ @thewew​ @eddies-bat-tattoos​ @minttea07​​​

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

It’s November 29th, the Monday after Thanksgiving. It’s also your lunch hour.

You yank open the glass front door of Caribou Crossings, the souvenir shop where Heather works. It’s mostly abandoned now that tourist season has ended, and the unloved relics stare at you with cold, oddly sentient eyes: the owls carved out of cedar wood, bears carved out of jade, Russian dolls, miniature totem poles, plushie salmons. You climb over the counter and sit on the floor behind the cash register, your back pressed to the wall and your arms linked around your knees. Heather is breaking open rolls of coins to restock the register, probably unnecessarily; you are the only two people in the store.

She asks, wrestling to get quarters out of a particularly stubborn wrapper: “How’s it going?”

“Not great.”

“Have you fucked British Kurt Cobain yet?”

“We’re not speaking.”

She puts down the roll of quarters and looks at you. “What happened?”

You shrug, trying to act casual, trying to not let your voice crack. You don’t think there’s any threat of tears; you’ve cried so much in the past four days that you seem to be out of them. Your eyes are perpetually pinkish, puffy, exhausted. Despite your herculean efforts to remain hydrated, you have a constant low-grade tension headache that throbs like a bruise, misery trapped beneath the skin like blue-violet blood. “It’s a long story. He came over for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Okay.” Heather is perplexed. “And then he, what, drunkenly dropped the turkey on the floor? Tried to hook up with your mom? Offered to show you his collection of murder supplies?”

You smile wearily. “No. I told him that he had to get sober. And he freaked out, he was yelling, he was saying I don’t have any right to try to control him because he’s not mine and never will be. He said I was trying to use him to bail myself out of my spineless, unfulfilling life.”

She scoffs. “Well that’s not true.” Then she observes your face. “Is it…?”

You shrug again, feeling like you’re back in high school, petulant and powerless. “There are a lot of things I want to experience, a lot of places I want to go. But I haven’t done anything yet. Because I can’t tell my parents that I don’t want to stay in Juneau forever and run the vet clinic.”

This must shock Heather, but she doesn’t show it. “I can’t imagine that they would want you to stay if it made you unhappy.”

“No, they wouldn’t try to stop me. But it would break their hearts.”

There is a long, uneasy silence. At last, Heather says: “I think you should come to Ursa Minor tonight.”

“I don’t want to see Aegon.”

“I mean, Dale would probably kick him out if we asked.”

“No!” you shout, too quickly. If he doesn’t have his preferred place to drink his demons away, he might leave Juneau long before the six month deadline.

Heather raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to see him or do you not want to see him?”

You glower at the wall strewn with large, framed photographs of the Northern Lights. “I want him to apologize.”

“I have many talents, but I can’t make that happen for you,” she says. “Look, is it possible that Aegon will be at Ursa Minor? Yeah, totally. But other people are going to be there too. Me, and Joyce, and Kimmie, and Trent and all his dimwitted muscley friends…there are going to be people who care about you. There are going to be people who can help you through this. We can comfort you. We can distract you. We can curb stomp that Greek boy in the parking lot if he doesn’t behave himself. There are a lot of options.”

Lyrics from The Distance, unexpected and unwelcome, spin around in your mind like a vinyl record: She’s hoping in time that her memories will fade. “I’ll think about it.”

“Can I interest you in a complementary Juneau-themed trinket? Glacial mud mask? Moose nuggets? Birch syrup? A slightly sinister-looking stuffed salmon?”

“No. I’m good.”

Heather asks with a straight face: “Do you want me to kill him?”

You laugh, your first real laugh since Thanksgiving. “No, thank you very much, but no.”

“Seriously. I could make it look like the Ice Fisher did it. No one would ever know.”

You gaze up at her from where you sit on the floor. “I love you.”

“I know, bitch.” Heather grins. “Wear something slutty this time.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve spent a lot of time in your bedroom since Thanksgiving; you don’t want your parents to see you upset. They know something, of course, but they don’t interrogate you. They don’t intrude. They probably assume that you’ve broken up with Aegon—not that we were ever dating to begin with, you think sullenly—and, furthermore, that this is a painful yet indisputably wise course of action. It is a productive sort of pain, a necessary pain; it is like the deep maroon ache of a healing bone. It hurts less now than it would if you had stayed with him, married him, had children with him, attempted to build a life with him like a sandcastle razed again and again at high tide. It hurts less than if you had let yourself fall in love with him.

Oh, but didn’t I?

Alaska was purchased from Russia in 1867, just two years after the American Civil War ended, and was soon widely regarded by the still-recovering nation as a hopelessly remote and burdensome error. This impression was reversed only by the discovery of gold and the subsequent mass migration of miners to the territory beginning in the 1890s. After the booming gold industry came fishing and logging and oil and military bases, but gold was Alaska’s first saving grace. This is what you are thinking as you pencil on your black eyeliner, dust your eyelids with sheer gold glitter, paint your lips a vivid, glossy crimson. You stare at your reflection in the bedroom mirror, surrounded by photographs of your family and your friends, high school and college and vet school. There’s one image that doesn’t quite belong. It’s a cutout from one of those infinite travel magazines, a Ford Mustang convertible soaring down the Pacific Coast Highway in Southern California. The man behind the wheel—tan, beaming, carefree—is wearing sunglasses and a neon green tank top. The convertible is bright red; it is nearly the same shade as your lips.

You slip into a dress you haven’t worn in years: black, short, off-the-shoulder sleeves. Ever-practical, you opt for black boots instead of heels. When you arrive at Ursa Minor, Heather is wearing a sequined hot pink tube top and white leather pants. Joyce is wearing—to Heather’s abject horror—overalls, a rainbow striped T-shirt, and a massive mustard yellow scarf that nearly swallows her into oblivion. By a pure and unfortunate coincidence, you and Aegon match. He is sitting at the bar in all black: black turtleneck sweater, black jeans, black combat boots, black sleepless shadows under both of his eyes, a black mood that sweats out of his pores like a fever. Randomly, you remember the gold chain necklace he was wearing on Thanksgiving. It didn’t look fake, and it didn’t look cheap. To your knowledge, it is the only thing of significant value that he owns. It is a peculiar luxury for him to possess.

So what? Maybe he stole it. Maybe he traded drugs for it. Maybe he got it off a corpse that he strangled and then sank into cold, silent darkness beneath an ice-covered lake.

But no, you don’t believe that. You never did, and you still don’t.

Heather slurps down her Sex On The Beach. “Is this your revenge dress? Are you invoking the spirit of Princess Diana in this fine establishment tonight?”

You gaze miserably at Aegon. He is peering down into the caramel-colored bubbles of his rum and Coke. The stereo is playing Shania Twain’s Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under? “He told me he’s an awful person. That’s the worst part. Like he told me over and over again exactly what to expect and I didn’t believe him, because I was just…just…I don’t know.” Infatuated. In love. Blind. Naïve. Hopeful. “Stupid, I guess.”

“I hate men.” Heather glances to the bar. “Except Dale, he’s okay.”

“The fictional ones aren’t all bad,” Joyce says, flipping a page in her newest fantasy novel. This one has a pirate on the front, his billowing white shirt mostly unbuttoned and his long hair flowing in the wind like a hero’s cape.

“I’ve had a horrendous fucking day,” you moan. “There’s the Aegon thing, there’s the I’m never going to get out of Alaska thing, there’s the I’m going to die alone thing, and then on top of all that, I had to euthanize Ms. Ruland’s cat right before we closed.”

“Sylvester Stallone?!” Heather cries. “Sylvester died? That black and white homicidal little maniac? With the super long whiskers? Jesus, that’s tragic. I’m sorry.”

“In all fairness, he was like a gazillion years old. He probably remembered when dinosaurs roamed America. But it was still awful. Ms. Ruland was a mess. I felt totally unprepared, totally useless. I’d practiced in vet school, of course, but I’d never euthanized an animal I knew before. It was horrible trying to comfort Ms. Ruland. It was horrible seeing someone walk into the clinic with someone they loved and then walk out alone.”

Heather and Joyce nod with sad, sympathetic eyes, wanting to help but not knowing what else to say. You gulp down your pineapple-flavored Bacardi Breezer. Aegon must have complained about the Shania Twain music; Dale switches out the CD and the opening notes of Sabotage by the Beastie Boys rockets out of the stereo.

Kimmie throws open the front door and blusters into Ursa Minor, shaking the snowflakes out of her hair and wearing a sleek, skin-tight, metallic silver dress and matching platform heels. She looks like a disco ball; she looks like a mirror. She canters to the bar like a racehorse and orders herself a Miller Lite. She says something to Aegon. He mumbles back, still peering into his rum and Coke. She tries again. He shrugs and downs the rest of his drink. He glances at you—almost glaring, almost sad—and then orders another rum and Coke.

“Oh no,” Heather mutters. “Oh no, oh no, Kimmie, no.”

The front door opens again, and Trent and his friends spill inside in a loud, riotous swarm. They order beers at the bar—Trent fist-bumping Aegon, several of the other guys descending upon Kimmie to make bungling attempts at seduction—and then they migrate over to the pool table like a honking, brainless flock of geese. Trent breaks off to make a pit stop at your booth.

“Hi,” he says, smiling as he sips his Heineken.

“Hi,” you reply. Heather and Joyce’s eyes dart between you and Trent.

He points to the spot beside you, which is presently vacant. “Do you mind if I hang out for a while?”

“I think you’ll regret it. I am currently extremely depressed and boring.”

To your surprise, Trent doesn’t act like a dumbass. His voice goes gentle. His face collapses into soft, attentive pity. “What’s there to be depressed about?”

Well, you see, I accidentally fell in love with your maybe-murderer alcoholic homeless friend and in a completely unforeseeable turn of events he ruined my life. “I had to euthanize a cat today.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Trent says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my job. I should get over it.”

“No, seriously, I’m sorry.” Trent tosses his hair off his forehead in his patented horse-like maneuver, and then his gaze comes back to you. “Your job is to help animals, so I get that not being able to fix one would be really tough. But I know you’re still great at your job. I know you did everything you could.”

You stare up at Trent. Heather stares up at Trent. Joyce, having completely forgotten about her fantasy novel (a rare occurrence), stares up at Trent. Trent swallows a mouthful of Heineken; stray beads of it drip down his full lips and stubbled chin.

I couldn’t fix the cat. I couldn’t fix Aegon. I can’t fix myself.

“You can hang out if you want to,” you tell Trent, scooting over to give him space. He grins and slides into the booth, tall and broad-shouldered and tossing his hair around again, looking like goddamn Seabiscuit. You steal a glimpse of the bar. Aegon’s jaw has fallen open; he’s gaping at you with scandalized disbelief, with something like horror. You move a little closer to Trent. And Aegon, at last, turns his attention to the dramatic, irritating, captivating Kimberly Barbieri.

“So, Trent,” Heather begins slowly, apprehensively, then picks up steam. Beside her, Joyce picks up her book. “How is the salmon genocide business going?”

As you half-listen to Trent talk about fishing, which somehow—as all topics seem to do with him—leads back to football and his high school glory days, you drink your Bacardi Breezer and watch Aegon with sharp, narrowed eyes. He has relocated to the barstool next to Kimmie. He appears to be asking her questions—tentative, stilted questions—and she replies with animated laughter and calculated little touches: her fingertips grazing his wrist, her palm briefly pressed to his shoulder. You hate the way Aegon talks with his hands, those gestures which had been becoming so familiar to you. They put an ache in your chest like a nest of barbed wire.

“Bro!” one of Trent’s friends is calling from the pool table. Others are waving encouragingly. “Bro, come play! Come play! Broooooo!”

“Looks like you’re being summoned,” Heather says.

“Oh, wow, I guess so.” Trent turns to you, nervous. “Do you…uh…would you…maybe…like to join me?”

“What, playing pool?”

“Yeah.”

You try to consider this in earnest; your mind is so tangled up in Kimmie and Aegon and everything that’s transpired over the past week that the words barely sound like English. Playing. Pool. With Trent. “I don’t think I know how.”

“I’ll teach you,” he offers, quite willingly.

“Okay, maybe. Give me a few minutes, I need another drink first.”

“Want me to grab a Bacardi Breezer for you?”

“Thanks, but I’ll do it. I haven’t decided which flavor I want next yet.”

“Cool,” Trent says. He slips out of the booth and gives you one final, mock-stern, smiling warning. “Remember, I’m going to teach you how to play. Meet me at the pool table. Don’t forget. Don’t disappear.”

“I’ll be there,” you promise. He departs. You say to Heather: “I probably won’t be there.”

“Why not?” Heather asks. “You’re hot. You’ll be even hotter when you’re bent over a pool table lining up your shots. The Greek boy is already sad, but I want to see him devastated.”

“I don’t think I have that power.”

Heather smirks and wiggles her slender eyebrows. “I disagree.”

Across Ursa Minor, Kimmie leaps off her barstool and leaves Aegon to guzzle his rum and Coke in peace. She approaches your booth sheepishly, like a dog that knows he’s chewed a considerable hole in his owner’s favorite La-Z-Boy recliner. “So,” Kimmie says to you, nervously kneading her glass bottle of Miller Lite. She’s so fucking cool, you think mournfully. Cool girls drink beer, cool girls are lighthearted and fun, cool girls don’t take guys too seriously, cool girls never ask about the future. “You and Aegon.”

You drink the last of your Bacardi Breezer moodily. “What about us?”

“You aren’t…like…together, are you?”

“No. No way. I’d rather date O.J. Simpson.”

“Well…” Heather begins, and you kick her under the table. Bitch! she mouths, rubbing her shin.

“Okay,” Kimmie sighs in relief, a smile breaking across her face. The Christmas lights reflect off her silver dress; she glows, she radiates. “Good. I was hoping he wasn’t off-limits, but I wanted to check with you first. You know, in accordance with Girl Code.”

“How courteous,” you note.

Kimmie marvels dreamily: “He looked so freaking good strumming that guitar.”

“Um, Kimmie…” Heather begins again. You glare at her ferociously. Heather pivots. “He’s probably the Ice Fisher, so you should keep your distance.”

Kimmie laughs. “Aegon? The Ice Fisher?! I don’t think so. You have to be sober to meticulously kidnap and murder people. Besides, from what I’ve heard he’s slept his way through like half the souvenir shop cashiers, and none of them ended up dead.”

You stare down at the table despondently. Heather, floundering, puts her fist through the figurative In Case Of Emergency Break Glass box. “He has syphilis.”

Kimmie gasps. “Really?!”

Heather deflates. “No. Well, actually, I don’t know. Maybe. It’s certainly possible. We should assume the worst.”

Kimmie, for once fully in on the joke, winks. “I’ll let you know once I’ve investigated.” She strolls back to the bar in her short mirrorball dress, shimmering and lithe like a snake’s skin.

“To be clear,” Heather tells you. “I was not in the half of the souvenir shop cashiers that Aegon boned.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?! Why didn’t you tell her that…that…?!”

“That what?” you snap. “She asked if we’re together. We’re not. We never were. He made that crystal clear. And if he’s not going to get sober, I’m not going to get involved with someone like that.” Someone like Jesse. Someone like the man my mom still carries scars and bruises from, not in the flesh but in the soul.

“But…but…” Heather frowns at you with pained, condoling eyes. “You…you love him. Don’t you? You look like you love him. You look…and I mean this in the most compassionate way possible…you look fucking terrible. You look like someone died, and I’m not talking about Sylvester Stallone the geriatric cat. Joyce?”

Joyce gives you an evaluative glance. “Yeah, you look terrible.”

At the bar, Kimmie is leaning all over Aegon and giggling about a story he’s telling. His hands move in dramatic, expressive gestures. He is, for the first time tonight, smiling. There’s a jolt like knuckles jabbed beneath your ribs. There’s a profound, inky despair. Kimmie grabs Aegon’s hand—he has callouses on his fingertips, you think randomly—and leads him over to the pool table. As soon as they have vacated the area, Heather drags you to the bar.

“Dale?” she says. “My good bitch needs a Bacardi Breezer. Maybe two Bacardi Breezers. Maybe three. I think I’ll be driving her home tonight.” She turns to you. “What flavors do you want?”

“Apple,” you reply morosely.

“Okay, one apple, what about the rest?”

“All apple.”

“Goddamn, you really are fucked up about this. Dale, three apple Bacardi Breezers, please.”

He lines them up on the counter. Heather sits with you as you drink them one after the other, gradually feeling warm again, feeling a little lighter. When you peek back at the booth, Rob has appeared there and is discussing—politely this time—the plot of Joyce’s fantasy novel with her. She looks almost vaguely interested in his existence.

“Hey Dale,” Heather prompts. “What’s the secret to everlasting love?”

Dale chuckles huskily and runs a hand over his thick, wiry beard. “You’re asking the wrong person. My wife ran off with a cruise ship singer, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Heather says apologetically. That was around six months ago, at the start of tourist season; the guy was an Elvis impersonator. “My bad.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m better off, I think. Now I don’t have to pretend to like her soap operas anymore. Or her tuna casserole.” He guffaws and ambles away to serve a pair of middle-aged locals seated at the other end of the bar.

When you’ve finished your last Bacardi Breezer, Heather slaps your shoulder encouragingly. “Alright, you ready?”

“Yup,” you say, swaying a little as you hop off the barstool. You stumble and bump into Heather, laughing. She steadies you with a massive grin. She’s delighted; she’s relieved.

“Good. Now get your ass over to the pool table and do your best impression of Demi Moore in Striptease.”

You have no intention of doing that. But you do—with Heather’s stabilizing grip on your waist—make your way to the pool table. There is a crowd pulsing around it: Trent, Trent’s assorted jock friends, Aegon, Kimmie. Aegon is standing in the background and nursing his—fourth? fifth? tenth?—rum and Coke. His face is vague and his eyes groggy. Still, he is beautiful. He’s so beautiful you almost blurt it out before stopping yourself. Kimmie is lining up a shot to break the balls out of their triangular configuration. Her silver hoop earrings glint under the Christmas lights. She is covered in male gazes like the sheen of ice on a lake. The white cue ball collides with the pyramid-shaped conglomeration; the balls go flying in every direction. The solid green ball—number 6—disappears into a pocket.

“Booyah!” Kimmie cheers. There are claps and whistles. Aegon just stares blankly, gnawing on his lower lip, that chronically disobedient lock of hair resting on his cheek.

“You’re majorly talented,” Trent’s friend Gary swoons. Kimmie bats her eyelashes at him and then checks to see if Aegon noticed. He didn’t. Kimmie, flustered but trying to hide it, takes another turn but doesn’t manage to sink a single ball.

“Hey!” Trent welcomes you warmly. He slings an arm across your shoulders, which ordinarily you would shy away from. Now, you lean into him, your body melding with his, your muscles loose and sinuous. Aegon does notice this. His eyes are a dark, dangerous blue: riptides, maelstroms, trenches miles deep. Good, you think. Maybe I can get him jealous enough to reconsider. Maybe I can make him want to change. “Want to shoot for me? I’ll show you how.”

You smile up at Trent. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

He passes you a cue stick with large, rugged hands. “So you’ll need one of these…and then you have to chalk it…” He presses a tiny blue cube into your palm. You rub chalk onto the tip of the cue stick, feeling ridiculous.

“And what’s the purpose of this part? Superstition? To give me false confidence?”

Trent chuckles. “To help the stick get better contact with the cue ball.”

“So you’re an expert, huh?”

“I am athletically gifted.”

“Does pool count as a sport? I’m skeptical.”

“Pay attention,” he teases, flipping his hair out of his face. Seabiscuit strikes again. “Now Kimmie sunk a solid ball, so the solids are all hers. Ours are the striped ones. If we can sink all the striped ones before Kimmie sinks all the solid ones, we win. And you don’t want to sink the black 8 ball until all our balls are already gone. That’s the very last step.”

“Sink striped balls. Don’t sink solid balls or the 8 ball. Okay. Got it.” You take aim, your sights set on the striped blue ball, number 10. This is somewhat difficult; thanks to your plentiful Bacardi Breezers, the pool table feels like it’s listing like a ship. The tapered shaft of the stick is balanced awkwardly on the back of your hand. “Am I doing this right…?”

“Here,” Trent says, and then he gets to work repositioning you. He touches you without asking, which you don’t object to under the circumstances; Aegon’s face is flushing a gory, wrathful red. Trent spreads your fingers farther apart, adjusts the angle of your elbow, pushes you between the shoulder blades to lean a bit lower over the pool table. The hem of your black dress creeps up your bare thighs, fluttering like a whisper. Aegon aggressively chugs the rest of his rum and Coke, the ice cubes clanging in the glass.

You take your shot, and the white cue ball whizzes across the pool table. It ploughs into the number 10 ball and sends it down into the abyss-like pocket closest to where Aegon stands.

“Yes!” Trent roars. He swoops in, picks you up with startling ease, whirls you around once before setting your unsteady feet back down on the floor and accepting thunderous back-slapping from his hoard of friends.

“Wow,” Heather murmurs, mostly to herself.

“Ugh, you whore!” Kimmie jeers, but she’s clapping and giggling too. She’s still the main character tonight, and she always will be, and she knows this like she knows the lines in her own palms. She’s just that kind of girl.

“Another round, another round!” Trent’s friends are chanting, and then they stampede together off to the bar to procure more beer. Kimmie, tottering in her silvery platform heels, moves to join them.

Abruptly, Aegon catches Kimmie’s forearm and pulls her to him. He whispers in her ear; her eyes go wide, her breath hitches, her glossy lips split into an exhilarated smile. And then they dash out of Ursa Minor together, stopping just long enough to grab their parkas off the coatrack by the door. They’re gone. They’re both gone.

You sputter to Heather: “What…? How…? No, they can’t! They can’t—!”

“What do you want me to do?!” she hisses back. “Tackle them before they can make it off the premises? Tie Kimmie to a chair? Force her to take a vow of celibacy? You didn’t tell her that he was off-limits when you had the chance. This is the consequence that we all have to live with.”

“Oh my god.” The room is spiraling around you. You feel nauseous; you feel ice cold. He wasn’t supposed to leave with her. He wasn’t supposed to…

“Uh, are you okay?” Heather asks.

“No,” you choke out. Aegon and Kimmie! Aegon and Kimmie!!! “I have to get out of here.”

“Well you can’t drive home like this—”

“I know. I’ll be back.” You push by her, snatch your parka off the coatrack, dive out into the starless, frigid night.

There’s no one in the parking lot, no one on the street. You make a hard left and walk with no particular plan down towards the harbor, your shaking hands jammed into your parka pockets, tears streaming down your face. The wind whips at you, howling and old, older than the creaking wooden planks of the dock beneath your boots, older than all of humanity. You pass bobbing sailboats and fishing vessels until you come to the end of the pier, sit there cross-legged and sobbing, gaze out through blurred vision over the Gastineau Channel. It separates mainland Juneau from Douglas Island, which began—like so much of Alaska did—as a gold mining settlement. You remember the sparkling gold eyeshadow that you applied in your bedroom just a few hours ago. You don’t feel very valuable at the moment. You feel unworthy. You feel alone.

It is silent except for the waves and the wind. It is very dark; the sky is clouded, and the illuminations of Ursa Minor and the streetlights are faraway. When you hear the footsteps behind you on the pier, your stomach drops; they’re too heavy to be Heather’s or Joyce’s. But when you twist around, it is Trent that you see in the dim, shadowy light.

“Hi,” he says, raising a hand. “Heather told me that you ran away.”

“Hi. I guess I did.”

He hesitates, flips his hair, drops down beside you at the edge of the pier. “You okay?”

You sigh heavily and swipe the tears from your cheeks. “Yeah. I’m just having a really bad day.” Like an absurdly, phenomenally, exponentially bad day.

“I know what that’s like.”

I doubt it, Trent. I really do.

You sit there together in the quiet, watching the sparce light flick off the crests of waves, staring at the bright dots of houses and shops across the channel on Douglas Island. Trent puts his arm around you. You let him, and—partially for the warmth, partially for the healing sensation of being desired, being cared for—lean your head against his chest.

After a very long time, you ask dully: “What do you like about working on a salmon boat?” It’s almost enough to make you wince. It’s the kind of pedestrian, unimaginative question that Aegon would make fun of. But Trent seems to consider it carefully.

“I like being outside,” he says. “I like the fresh air, I like the scenery. And I like how working with my hands helps me get all my frustrations out. I’m a better person when I stay busy. Commercial fishing can be intense sometimes, don’t get me wrong, that’s why I’m trying to get into the Forest Service. But I like it enough.”

“What do you like about me?”

You can hear the awe in his voice. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. There was a time when I didn’t care so much about things like that. But now that I’m older and I’ve started to think about settling down…I feel like you’re the right kind of girl to do that with.”

You look up at him. He beams down at you like a full moon. And then he kisses you. He’s warm and strong and handsome in that obvious sort of way, but he’s something else, too: a little forceful, a little rough. Rough isn’t always a bad thing. But it’s like you can glimpse the silhouette of someone else beneath the surface, stars veiled by clouds, the shadows of fish under ice. He doesn’t feel anything like Aegon. He doesn’t patch the wound that Aegon left in you at all.

I wonder where Aegon is right now. I wonder what he’s doing to Kimmie.

When Trent breaks the kiss, you tell him that you have to go. He walks you back to Ursa Minor, his mighty palm on the small of your back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Heather drives you home, shellshocked. She asks, in reference to your confession about the kiss on the pier: “So…uh…do you want to talk about it, or…?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“Are you and Trent…like…a thing…?!”

“I don’t know. He seems to think we are.”

“Oh god, oh god, oh my god.” She rubs her forehead with one hand, her astonished eyes on the indigo-black horizon.

When you get home, your dad is already asleep. Your mom is straightening up the kitchen, wiping off countertops and scrubbing dishes in the bubble-filled sink. When you ask if she needs any help, she bursts out laughing.

“You’re the one who looks like she needs help,” she says. “What happened at the bar?”

You grimace down at the floor. “A lot of things. A lot of things.”

“Nothing you feel the desire to share?”

“No. Not quite yet. Can you drive me back to pick up my Jeep tomorrow?”

“Sure. Why don’t you take a nice bubble bath and then go to bed?” she suggests. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Do you need a snack? I could make pancakes. Or a grilled cheese.”

“That’s really kind of you, but no thanks, Mom.” I’ve completely lost my appetite.

You sulk in a bubble bath for a while, drag yourself out, brush your teeth and hair, try to rub the night off every part of you like smoothing rough edges off a gemstone. When you wander out into the hallway, your eyes catch on the door to the attic, a rectangular outline in the white ceiling. You are mostly sober by now, and yet still the idea that strikes you seems ludicrous at first. It’s a muddled, disjointed thought. It might be a dangerous one.

If I can learn more about Jesse, maybe I can understand Aegon too.

The box of journals is up there, you know, dusty and untouched and waiting. The rope hangs invitingly. You pull the door open and unfold the ladder. You climb up into the attic, turn on the single naked lightbulb, and push aside bins of holiday decorations and family heirlooms until you find a small, unlabeled cardboard box that’s sealed shut with duct table. You peel back the tape and peek inside the flaps. The box is filled with thin leather journals in a variety of colors: olive green, navy blue, rust red, earthen brown. You gather the cardboard box into your arms and carry it down to your bedroom, slipping it discretely beneath your bed to live beside childhood stuffed animals and mounds of old yearbooks. You close up the attic and then venture downstairs to get yourself some water to stave off a blossoming hangover.

Your mom is at the kitchen sink, washing a plate with a green Scotch-Brite sponge. “Did I hear you up in the attic, ladybug? Do you need help finding something?”

“No, I got it.”

“Okay.” But she studies you, puzzled. She’s going to worry unless you explain.

“I don’t want to make you talk about it,” you say. “And I don’t want to upset you. I’ll never mention it again. But just so you know, I want to read the journals. For my own reasons. That’s why I was up in the attic. I was bringing the box down to my bedroom.”

“Oh.” She freezes, stares out the window over the sink, goes vacant. “That makes sense. That’s fine.”

“Mom, are you alright?”

“Of course, ladybug.” There is nothing outside but night. You can see her reflection in the glass like a mirror. Long, slow seconds tick by. “It seemed like he was getting better,” your mom says, her voice faint and weightless, an untethered balloon, a feather on waves. “That’s the strange part. At the very end, it seemed like he was getting better.”

Then she lets the plate sink beneath the pearlescent bubbles, wipes her hands dry on a dishtowel, and goes to bed without another word.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii #hotd fanfic #aegon x y/n #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon targaryen ii x you

[smoshpunisher]

ianthony song recs

hey guys! im currently on a roadtrip rn so imma show you my fav ianthony song recs (cus i am BORED) 1. sober to death by car seat headrest

-this has been my all time favorite song from the group, really describes them post 2017 when they had the split, with both unable to comfort each other or validate each other the way they needed. 2. ticket to the moon by the solutions

-this is a korean indie rock song, ive been SOO obsessed with the band and also this type of genre. i picked this song because it reminded me of anthony since i see him as the moon :) 3. life with the sun by jyocho

-this is a japanese indie rock song, this band is also lowkey good :)) also picked this song as the name reminded me of ian. (should TOTALLY listen this song right after listening to ticket to the moon)

4. a fool moon night by the koxx

-another korean song, lyrics are in english though :p love this song with its futuristic guitar riff in the beginning and the solo. can imagine this song as anthony leaving smosh 2017 to pursue other desires. to be his own independent creator. as a goodbye letter to ian as he ventures off to his own

5. twin size mattress by the front bottoms

-GOD THE ANGST IN THIS SONG. another post break up 2017 song (i know tragic) but this is song proves my statement. midwestern emo is made for ianthony!!! the lyrics prove it all

6. scrawny by wallows

-a song that isnt dedicated to post breakup ianthony, this song reminds me of early ianthony with their wholesome interactions. might make an edit to this song but idk :) 7. everlong by foo fighters

-i DID make an edit to this song, now it sits as my most view video on my channel. thank you so much for the support btw ^-^ but this song hits exactly with post reunion ianthony ! they really never said goodbye more like a see you later!! the ianthony girlies/theyies/menies you should totally listen to EVERY song i just suggested some of these are BANGERS !!

#smoshpunisher's music rants lmao #ianthony #smoshblr #ian and anthony #ian hecox #anthony padilla #smosh #smosh ian #smosh anthony #anthony padilla and ian hecox #classic smosh

[bridgeportbritt]

A Fresh Start Rehabilitation Center | Cypress, SimDonia

???: Who could be here for me? Mom and Dad would've called first.

Arabella nervous: Hey there...

???: Oh, my Watcher! Arabella??

Arabella: Hey, Alex.

Alex: I can't believe you're- how did you-? Oh, my Watcher.

Arabella: I hope you're not mad.

Alex: Mad? no! I'm confused, but I'm so happy to see you! How'd you find me here?

Arabella: Umm... we're best friends with the Queen.

Alex: Really? Diana sent you here?

Arabella: We've been worried about you, so she had someone do some digging. Once we found you here, we knew we needed to see you in person. Diana wishes she could be here, but..

Alex: I understand. Gosh, I'm just happy to see you. Sorry, I said that already. Let's sit and catch up.

Alex: So, how is Diana? You've seen her recently?

Arabella: Yeah, she's doing good. Busy, of course. Seems like she's been pregnant forever. Won't be long now.

Alex: Aw, and you?

Arabella: Well, we just had little Madeliene not to long ago. I don't think I've seen you since I had Jayme.

Alex: Wow, three little ones? You guys aren't wasting no time. Gosh, I feel like I've missed a lot.

Arabella: Yeah, it was like you fell off the face of the earth there. What happened?

Alex: Right... well, it's kind of a long story, but after the wedding fiasco... I was really struggling.

Alex upset: I tried my best to keep it together for the coronation. It was just... seeing her again. Knowing that because of me... my best friend almost...

Arabella: Alex, no one blames you for that.

Alex: Yeah, I kept trying to tell myself that. But, after the coronation.. I just... kind of went off the deep end.

The rest of this post describes substance abuse, alcohol, and drugs. Please read at your own risk.

Alex: The partying, the drinking, the drugs. I was spiraling out of control hard and fast. I- I didn't even recognize myself anymore.

Arabella: Oh, Alex...

Alex: I was just so torn up with guilt and I hated myself for even dating that guy. I felt so violated and used. And I just let everybody down once again with my stupid choices.

Arabella sobbing: I'm so sorry you were going through that, Alex! We should've paid more attention and been there for you!

Alex: No, don't think that, Arabella, really. You were living your life! I was a mess and isolating myself on purpose. Eventually, my parents caught on and sent me here.

Arabella: I'm so glad for that. I... know life is crazy and we don't see each other as much, but... I don't know what I'd do without you. You're my best friend.

Alex: Thanks, Belle. Even though being here sucked at first, it's working its magic, I guess. I've been sober for 5 months, therapy 3 times a week, group twice, activities up the ass.

Arabella: That's amazing, Alex. I'm so proud of you!

Alex: Thanks. Plus, I kind of met someone..

Arabella: Oh, really?

Alex: Yeah, his brother's a patient here. But, my dad's company works with his. He owns a clothing brand. Or "lifestlye apparel" as he likes to call it. He's cool.

Arabella: He sounds like the most normal guy you've ever dated.

Alex laughs: I know, right? No "salarypersons" from Mt. Komorebi this time around. We're just friends for now. Gotta stay focused on the program. But, I only have 3 months left, so... who knows?

Arabella: Wow, that's a really mature way to go about it. I am so impressed, Alex. You're killing it! You're so much stronger than you realize. I can't wait to see how you flourish after this.

Alex: Thanks, I'm excited to. Feels like - ugh - a fresh start.

Arabella chuckles: Ah, that's why they call this place that... Well, care to show me around? Let me into Alex's world?

Alex: Sure, since it's a little less messy.

#simdonia #chap 12 #alex was always a party girl #but she partied for fun not to cover up her pain #hopefully she stays on the right track #sims of color #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #ts4 #royal sims #sim: alexandra #sim: arabella #tw drugs #tw alcohol #tw substance abuse

[rachelillustrates]

More thoughts on Thorin Oakenshield

Particularly on his rapid-rehab over the Gold-sickness - which is a scene I think about often, being in recovery myself (9 years 8 months sober, btw 🌼).

So considering that this all happens within like 2 to 5 minutes maybe - plus however long it takes him to walk from the throne room of Erebor to the Gallery of Kings, which we don't see - I think we have to take into consideration where he is coming from, which is the moment in which Dwalin tried to stand up to him. Then, he responded by a) berating himself, as he is - basically calling crownless-Thorin-Oakenshield a nothing, and b) literally threatening to kill Dwalin. And that came right after he denied his kin in general when the battle started, and THAT came right after he tried to throw Bilbo - arguably his plot-relevant Love, whether you ship it or not (thanks to @sonickitty for this amazing post) - from the ramparts whether or not he would have been able to go through with it notwithstanding, since Gandalf interrupted him to help get Bilbo out of there.

Those are three big, emotional things that force him to hole up further into his sickness, but also call him out at the same time, which I think is evident in how coldly desperate he looks when he tells Dwalin to go "before I kill you." Part of him knows he is losing it - as much as he clings to the gold fever, as if its a reassurance. As if it's security, after nearly a lifetime of uncertainty, which would be really, really easy to rationalize away as a "valid" and "reasonable" thing.

(Which is textbook addictive behavior, btw. "I need this because.... It's all right because....")

And I think it's telling, then, that he ends up in the Gallery instead of the treasury.

Part of that was likely a plot-design choice, since that's where they almost defeated Smaug and that shiny gold floor makes for some amazing visuals in his hallucinations. BUT. Looking at it from a Watsonian perspective, I think that him going there - choosing the place of the Company's almost-victory, instead of the place of his grandfather's defeat - speaks volumes about the part of him that wants to stop.

And then, we get a look inside his brain - all those overlapping voices, all the reminders of what is happening to him, how he has acted, and who he was before. The faith his people had in him. All as a cacophony - until Bilbo's voice, at which point there is no more overlapping. Just Bilbo speaking loud and clear - "You are changed, Thorin." - and then "I am not my grandfather," just as had been interspersed with the other voices, too, but now as clear and uninterrupted as his recall of Bilbo's words. And they are, first, the words he spoke to him on the ramparts - when he, the most emotionally close to him (since Fíli and Kíli are still following orders and are under that obligation to him as their King, family bonds therefore notwithstanding) finally called him out for who he'd become, followed by what he said to him in the mithril scene, when he failed to reach him earlier (seeing as a certain King Under the Mountain got distracted in his illness and warped their affection into "you are a shiny thing for me to protect and apparently not listen to"). Which, I know they didn't include the "our honor - I was also there" part of the line, but that came right after "is this treasure truly worth more than your honor," so even with that unsaid that loops him right back into that emotional bond and the fact that Bilbo does know, and care for, who he really is. And calls him to stand for it.

At which point, he sees the shadow of a dragon in the gold, as if swimming through it - which I think is supposed to stand for the fact that he has taken Smaug's place, in intention, but on a very quiet note, because: then, the clarity of speech continues, with Gandalf proclaiming that this treasure will be his death. Gandalf as much as he's a douche and they haven't always gotten along being the closest thing to one of the Powers, to his own Maker, that he has ever met or is likely to physically meet in this life.

I think that was deliberate.

From a recovery standpoint, hitting bottom often starts with emotional appeal from one's loved ones (Dwalin, Bilbo) but doesn't stick until spirituality gets involved, so this seems - again, from my own experience - to be a subtle way to pull that in after leaning heavily on his emotional connections.

Which is followed, of course, by the hallucination - his vision - of the gold of the floor literally swallowing him whole, and smoothing back over as if nothing had ever happened. Just like it would have looked if they had buried Smaug there. He would really be nothing, then. Forgotten, maybe, even.

That, and Gandalf's words, really touch on Thorin's own will to survive - yes, we've gotten reminders of what actions he's taken in the illness, and what's happening to others as a result, BUT if someone in addiction doesn't want to live - and thus, doesn't want to break out of it - nothing genuine can be done. They have to want to survive. They have to want to recover. So we get that, here, with those words and seeing the gold kill him in the same manner that he (and the Company) tried to kill Smaug.

To which we get the answer of that excellent far-away shot of him throwing off the crown, looking so small in the vast, empty, golden space.

(And then his bewilderment, kind of dreamily coming out of it, looking at the floor - the crown itself, probably - as if in a trance, and then slowly and subtly back up and out around himself.)

The next scene we get of him is not much later - we get a quick look outside, see that Dain is calling his forces back to the mountain, and Azog believes he is killing it (strut, sir), then we snap right back to the Company. Which Thorin joins, now in really not enough leather armor instead of the heavy plate mail.

Bare of all the trappings of his status - back to Thorin Oakenshield, again, who was always already good enough in the first place 💙 And, the first thing he does is make amends the best way he can under the circumstances. He hears Kíli's grievance, he validates his feelings, and he shows up for the reality around himself and the people under his care.

"I have no right to ask this of any of you (which is pretty close to an apology) but will you follow me, one last time?" (Which is a declaration of action, intent. What he is gonna do now to make it right, truly himself again.)

He sounds resigned, but with acceptance. Like he knows that they're likely going to their death - all of them - but he can't do this alone, and doing this is the right thing, in any and all cases.

Considering that recovery from addiction usually takes years of suffering (and then years of work), that the stage direction/scripty goodness was all of one line, and looking at what we see both before that scene and after it, I think they did a pretty incredible job. To my knowledge, in the book, we get very little of this at all - Thorin comes into the battle still full-armored, we don't see his thought process about that choice (vs. staying in the mountain), and he doesn't acknowledge his wrongs until he's on his deathbed. So for his illness, on this level, to have been addressed at all, let alone with this depth, is a gift.

I am quite impressed and grateful.

~

More LoTR/The Hobbit meta here.

#thorin oakenshield #recovery #tolkien #lotr meta #bagginshield #otp #writing #inspiration #meta

[brightgnosis]

At a certain point you just want to throw your hands up and say "this is not my fucking problem anymore", and unfortunately in some cases you can't actually do that. But I'm so tired ... Just, emotionally, I'm completely exhausted and done; I feel incredibly taken advantage of and uncared for, honestly. And after the last incident last night prior to the fall, I'm also now filled with a blinding rage that still hasn't quite simmered down. I honestly don't know if it will.

@drinkbooksreadtea and @genderfluidgothwitch / @wanderlust-----witch got to hear about it a little last night, but because I had capped out my post limit for the day like a dumbo I didn't get to say anything about it broadly. But yesterday was just a shit sandwich (quite literally in some areas). My Mother in Law breaking her leg and pelvis was just the bright red screaming EMT cherry on top of a particularly bullshitier day than most. To summarize as briefly as possible, though:

I got woken up at 6 am yesterday (2 hours before my usual up time, which is not good on my Fibro) because we can't seem to get my Father in Law to understand that he is walking on the ceiling of our bedroom, and he walks like an Elephant constantly.

I was tired all day as a result. And I was in pain because it's been cold and raining, and the weather system keeps shifting- and my conditions are annoyingly sensitive to weather pressure, rain, and cold. But CBD and Pine Oil were only taking the edge off the pain barely. So I just had to suffer through it, because I can't be high while taking care of my Mother in Law.

Except I basically didn't take care of my Mother in Law yesterday because she had 2 appointments. Which I was informed about. But when we spoke about the 2nd one, I was told he'd be back at 11:30 to try and get out the door by "12:30 at the latest"- and then they'd be back "at or around 2:30". Which did not give me enough time to nap, because I know my body. If I'd fallen asleep, I wouldn't've woken up by the time they were back, as tired as I was. Except they weren't back when he said they'd be. They were back almost 2 hours later, at near 4. So I stayed awake, bone exhausted, in pain, and completely sober, for nothing.

That's ok, though, because my Husband got off work early. Maybe I can finally get a nap, take a gummy, and chill! But for some reason, the second he gets off work, in rapid succession: He takes the Dog out with him when he goes to smoke, lets the dog back in while he checks on Mom ⇾ Dog vomits at the top of the stairs without me hearing her and I step in vomit going to check on dinner in the crock pot, and have to clean it up ⇾ I go to the bathroom after, and his mom's had an accident at some point and stuffed both her underwear and her diaper in the toilet to hide it like a toddler. So now in order to piss I've gotta clean up all the adult shit all over the bathroom and fish those out of the toilet ⇾ Come back downstairs and throw the underwear and towels in the wash ⇾ Step in another mysteriously appearing pile of dog vomit ⇾ Hobble step from that one right into a mysterious third pile ... And fall on my ass.

At that point I snap and just wind up sobbing on the Basement floor for two hours, my last thread having just completely severed for the day. So my Husband cleans up the two new piles of dog vomit for me and gets my pants off, cleans my feet, and gets me new pants ... And the second he gets done with that, the dog vomits a fourth time; she literally has not been fed yet today and is vomiting up giant piles of half digested dog food. The only thing we can surmise is that someone must've thrown something over our fence- and I will fucking murder them the second I find them.

That's all fine, though, right? Because at this point it's 6:30 and my Father in Law should be back in half an hour for the night ... Oh, except he comes home for 5 minutes to change and then go to a fucking church meeting half an hour away, that he didn't inform us he was going to go to, and which he really shouldn't be going to. But priorities, amiright? Gotta go talk to God and Congregation, because Sundays aren't enough. Nevermind that your Wife has Cancer and needs care, and won't let my Husband or I change her shit stained clothing she's been laying in for hours!

Nevermind that the person doing the main amount of care for her right now is also the other disabled person in the house, who is currently in pain and recovering from an injury that made them completely unable to walk- after already having a bad luck string of illnesses that left them bedbound for the last 2 / 3 months (what is math? I've given up now). And nevermind that they currently have another communicable illness and honestly shouldn't be around someone with a severely compromised immune system right now. It also doesn't really matter that the longer they're forced to care for her, the more they risk reinjuring their own current injury, to the point where they literally can't stand anymore without their Piriformis muscle immediately seizing and spasming. This is what family does!

He was maybe been home for like 40 minutes when the whole fall thing happened.

#Personal #2024 #Alphabet Soup #Multiple Myeloma #Multigenerational Households Are Fun Until They're Not #Sciatica #Piriformis Syndrome #She Called Me 'Her Ruth' #Trigger Warning

[blogathan]

TW: Addiction, HORRIBLE grammar, Tagents into Tagents straight back to the original topic... Just bad writing. Way too long Super TMI journal post. This post is mostly for myself.

I've been struggling with an addiction to delta 8 the legal version of weed in my state for about 3 years. My sister's previous roommate gave me a vape cartridge and the vape for my 28th birthday because I enjoyed smoking weed with their friend group. - I added this after typing half of this post: I'm high right now. And also covered in tears and snot.

Fuck you Libby! Wait... No no. You didn't know I wouldn't be able to stop taking hits because the brain fog from this worse than weed chemical mix would cover my depression (and the rest of my brain...) while mindlessly distracting myself with snacks, porn, video games, and TV shows I had already seen. As soon as I get high the part of my brain that could barely inhibit me from instant gratification is turned off.

I wonder if anyone can relate to that feeling of not being in control. Like there have been times where Id tell myself you can be sober and get your shit together. So id put the disposable vape away in a drawer and then go do something else (although in the same room, I spent a lot of time on my PC which was in my room at the time, but also as right now a lot of time in bed on my phone... I gotta keep my phone out of my bedroom... You guys are gonna see me a lot less. I might delete the app..anyway I'd be on my phone or PC. Holy shit I was addicted to technology as a distraction before the delta 8 (and still am?)) and so after being on my PC or phone I honestly vividly remember I didn't have a thought. Like... I am looking at my screen and then all of a sudden I blink and I'm standing there blowing out smoke. Some of it seems to be lack of mindfulness, but my mind definitely works different than most as I have ADHD inattentive type, a reading and writing learning disability. I haven't been diagnosed, but I'm confident that I am autistic as well... And all of these I learned at 17 (and 11 months) so I was kinda already an "adult" already or so I thought and also legally (but at the same time.. Ive been developing slower... Ugh I hate thinking about little me who needed help and didn't know it 😭😭) when I learned I was different. And other than giving me meds they literally gave me no help to change any of my ways of thinking or even explained what ADHD was. I didn't look it up to understand iteven though I had it until last year. And it also just derailed this story lol one of the ways these things affect me are my lack of ability to control and process emotions.

I have so much emotion I haven't processed. My only memories of crying pre-25 years old was getting spanked as a kid, when I couldn't focus and do my homework. Omg there was this writing assignment in the 4th grade. I was supposed to write a one page paper on something. I got the piece of paper out. I write my name in the upper corner. I stare at the paper. I need an opening sentence. And then my mind is blank. But not just blank for a second. Actually I have no idea how long I stared at that blank page. It felt like somewhere between 5 minutes and an hour. I've never been good with feeling time pass. Anyway blank mind and this expectation that I need to write the paper. I'm supposed to write this paper and I can't think of anything... frustration growsAnd then I cried myself to sleep on top of the blank piece of paper. I couldn't get myself to do homework for the rest of the school year.. and then I started begging to stay home when projects I couldn't get myself to do were due. I started hiding under the bed after my mom woke me up so they couldn't force me to go to school. Oh wait 4th grade. I was still leaving giant skid marks in my underwear and a number of incidents that were way worse... Oh man I'm remembering more crying from being embarrassed people could smell me.. oh 8 year old Jon it's not your fault you didn't know you needed to take off your pants completely and spread your legs wider to poop. So you would push and push so hard your diaphragm would close your lungs and you couldn't breathe. And you'd choke yourself trying to poop. But couldn't. So then 5 days of no poop later a droplet would fall down your leg. Y'all may be wondering why I'm writing all of this and it's cause I've never told anyone. I've never processed this. I'm in tears I've been writing and rereading for an hour. Like when I started listing times I remember crying before 25 I had a short list spankings as a kid and my two grandfathers funerals. I kinda blocked out the embarrassment and crying I felt when people could smell me.

Okay so I got off topic because this is a diary entry and that's how I think.

So tonight my parents were watching a Chris Farley documentary and I watched the last half of it with them. If you don't know him he was on SNL from 1990-1995. Hilarious guy who couldn't control his addictions.

And then my mom and I are talking after the documentary and she starts telling me about my brother's battle with addiction. And I'm staring at her high. She says "he was high around us for 6 years and we didn't notice" and I'm high. And I've been trying to become sober. In the past year I've had 4 times where I was sober for 20-40 day spurts. But for some reason I've never been able to open up to my parents about anything. It's like... I don't trust them. Like I trust what they say. Omg it's not trust. It's safety. I've never felt safe to be vulnerable with them. My gut is saying they always just talked about being a Christian and making good grades. And I've struggled with both(okay at this point religion is not a struggle, I am confident I'm atheist).... So she's giving me the perfect opening to tell her I need help and I just keep listening. My brother was living with 3 other guys and he'd been addicted to weed, and opiates when my brother was in highschool so by then he was doing heroin and everything else. And one day him and his friends are using and someone comes to buy some from one on them. And as that transaction is happening in the doorway they can see my brother. His face is blue. Hed overdosed. But the buyer had a friend with him and that friend saw my brother and he had a can of narcan(idk what exactly my mom said but that's what I heard) They injected into his groin. He didn't wake up. They threw a glass a water on him and he woke up.

A week later one of my brothers roommates ODs. This time they don't have anything. My brother who didn't own a phone yells someone call 911. But no one wanted to. They had lots of drugs and didn't know of the good Samaritan law. My brother goes out of the apartment and finds someone to call 911. The firemen arrive and can't save him. The ambulance arrives and they save him. His other roommates laugh afterwards and say that was you last week. He knows he's gonna die if he stays there. But he accidentally got too deep. His drug dealer/roommate offered him a deal: drive him to his drug dealer and then he'll give my brother free drugs. But now he knows a supplier and they aren't gonna let him just move out or leave. So he pretends he is gonna do laundry and gathers his things into a laundry bag and then runs away calling my dad and demanding my dad come pick him up and take him to a detox center. They send him to a Christian rehab (this was rehab #3) and my brother got saved and works for that organization at their church college campus.

I know I'm just addicted to delta 8 and it doesn't kill me it just numbs me to life and lowers my inhibition so it's not the same.. but idk after hearing what my own brother went through.. I gotta face my emotions. I gotta get past this addiction. And then find some kind of motivation or something to push me to get a job. Because I can't stay in this house all day and never interact with people. I feel like I understand some of myself more but.. does the depression go away? Or.. how do I learn how to correctly live while sober? Like how to not let my emotions control me but also I've never had structure... Okay enough introspection. Kinda hope someone reads this and understands me and gives me advice. Also kinda hoping this was too long and scared off most people..

#blogathan lore #venting #addiction #i cant tell if im hiding behind this ADHD/Depression/learning disability/autism or if im actually doing well for someone who has them

[yourfriendmelanie]

i am scared to share anything, even to my therapist. i never share to anyone. i think i don't want to say things out loud because if i don't say it out loud then maybe it didn't happen, or it didn't exist. that's not true. ever since i could remember i hated my life. maybe in 2010? 2011? 2012? 2006 when my parents split? who knows. this really bad thing happened to me in 2012 i think. i do remember 12/12/12 at 12:12pm. my fifth grade teacher took a picture of our class at that exact time! i remember i hated going to school after this happened... i think. or i just didn't want to. my mother wasn't around a lot, it was usually just me and my brother, at least to my recollection. therefore, i could skip school. keep in mind i am 12. i was born in September of 2000. i was raised by so many people. i have a "broken" family. my friend that was on my volleyball team told me in seventh grade that i have a broken family. I've never forgotten that. i never thought of my family like that. i knew it was somewhat fucked up, but i knew a lot of my friends in Seattle had similar family situations. i moved to a more rural or town like, it has 10,00 people, and most families seemed picture perfect. anyway, i knew my family was fucked up but i didn't know it was thaaaat fucked. i feel like i was cursed from the beginning. i was raised by my mom and dad from ages 0-5 or 6, then just my mom from 6-12 or 13, and then living with, not raised, by my aunt, dad, and uncle. it is all fucked up. i feel like living with them has been like living a lie, but let's not talk about that right now. i have no "full" siblings. i have three half siblings. i had a full brother but he was a stillborn. i wish i could have a sibling to grow up with but i didn't. i was alone a lot. my brother was five years older than me and he was in and out of the hospital a lot and received more attention to me, obviously because of his health. it just made me sad. and made me feel unwanted. but my relationship with my mom and dad have been good. i was very mad at my mom in middle school, i was angry that she neglected me for so long and i felt like she had no remorse for that. i know it was because of mental health and i forgave her. my dad suffered from alcoholism ever since i could remember, but now as of 2024 he is six year sober. he still pisses me off but i forgive him for literally being such an absent dad, but now he is great and i love him.

i have love. I've been loved. i am loved. i give love. i do have love. haha that sounds like an affirmation, but i do believe that i have had many boyfriends and we've been in love. I've been in love, but i don't know what love is actually. i know i love dogs, and i know i love my boyfriend and i love my friends. but i do not know what a healthy relationship looks like, romantically, at all. i have never seen a healthy romantic relationship ever. my dad and my mom we're very abusive towards each other. my aunt and uncle are weird and i do not think they love each other, but have been married for over 40 years, so what do i know. i thought my boyfriend's parents had a good healthy relationship. then i found out that his dad left his mom, not while they were married, for a couple months. then he went back and they are so beautiful and funny towards each other. i still do think they have a great relationship. i am scared that i am being pulled towards men that are unhealthy, like my mother and father's relationship. i usually feel unloved and i know that that is incorrect. i am doing DBT and it has been good. i have learned so much, and have so many more coping skills. i think it has been helping my communication skills and my relationships, romantic and other. like, a lot.

i wanted to make this post on tumblr because i have always loved tumblr. when i was depressed in 2012 and 2013, tumblr helped me express myself with pictures and poetry, and i want to start sharing... whatever i want. i feel like this is a diary entry, but i promise not all of my posts will be like this.

xoxo,

mel

#sad thoughts #sadgirl #therapy #trauma coping #depressing shit #sorry for being depressing #dbt

[kormenhq]

Have some fic dialogue prompts

All of these prompts are from Pinterest and other tumblr posts. If you want to use any of these in your requests, just tell me which section and what number it is!

FLUFF PROMPTS

1. "I think I might be falling in love with you."

2. "Your lips are so soft. I could kiss them all day."

3. "Mmm... You're warm."

4. "You're so cute when you're half asleep like this."

5. "I've had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with."

6. "No, you can't get up! You're my prisoner for today."

7. “Your hair is really soft after you wash it.”

8. “Shh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

9. “You smell really nice.”

10. “Would it be alright if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.”

11. “If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”

12. “Here, let’s share the blanket.”

13. “You are my new pillow.”

14. “But I want to hear you sing.”

15. “We can talk over dinner.”

16. “Star-gazing was a good idea.”

17. “I think I love you.”

18. “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

19. “Shush and go back to bed.”

20. “How about a kiss?”

21. “I’ve missed this.”

22. “It’s too cold! Come back!”

23. “No, I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.”

24. “C’mere, you can sit in my lap until I’m done working.”

25. “I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.”

26. "I wanted to see you again."

27. "I thought 'If I just follow the rules, everything's gonna be fine.' And then you came along and pushed me off that path."

28. "You never cease to amaze me."

29. "I have to hand it to you, you certainly know how to make a statement."

30. "I plan to get to know you."

31. "You have something in your hair, umm... Do you want me to get it out?"

32. "No, like... It's just, I can't believe you're actually wearing my clothes."

33. "Would it be too cliche if we matched clothes a little?"

34. "I really love holding you, darling."

35. "Wanna, like- I mean, if you're not busy... We could get lunch? Or even just coffee if you don't have a lot of time?"

-

FUNNY PROMPTS

1. “Where are you going?” “Hell, most likely.”

2. “Where’s your crazy boyfriend?” “Probably doing crazy things.”

3. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you!” “And I’m trying to subtly avoid it!”

4. “Are you decent?” “Not morally, but I’m wearing pants, if that’s what you’re asking.”

5. “Why aren’t you dating him?” “Because I’d destroy him.” “He’d be into that.”

6. “Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes.” “What if I just break his nose a little?”

7. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

8. “You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?”

9. “Are you drunk?”

10. “Excuse me for freaking out, I only thought you were dead!”

11. “You’re gonna have to limp faster than that…”

12. “You whine about scratches but you don’t let out a peep when you’ve got a gaping wound! The hell is wrong with you?”

13. “I wouldn’t have done that if I knew you were hurt!”

14. “Is the fever getting to you or what?”

15. “Surprise! I’m back from the dead! Isn’t that exciting?”

16. “Can you hold this for me?” “No, I can’t. In case you didn’t know, not everybody has super strength.”

17. “I can’t believe you dragged me into this.”

18. “You think I’m dumb enough to fall for that stupid move?”

19. “It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion.”

20. “Go buy a personality.”

21. “Go to Hell.” “And leave you here all alone?”

22. “Are you sober?” “I’m moderately functional.” “I’ll take that as a no.”

23. “What do you know about it?” “More than you, apparently.”

24. “You’re not my favorite person today.” “I’m not your favorite person on any day.”

25. “You’re insane!” “I know! Isn’t it great?”

26. “Is it still murder if I give them a heads up?” “That’s called a threat.” “Damn.”

27. “You interrupt my reading once more, and this book will become a lethal weapon.”

28. “Kiss me, you twat.”

29. “Take my hand.” “No!” “Look, I’m not trying to ask you to marry me, I’m trying to save your life!”

30. “Just pretend to be my date.”

31. “They did it.” “No, they did.”

32. “It’s not a double date. We’re just third and fourth wheeling.”

33. “Shit, we’re gonna die.” “Now, I don’t wanna hear that negative attitude. Look on the bright side!” “Yay, we’re gonna die! Wooo!”

34. “If you do that again, I’ll throw you out that fucking window you- what are you doing?” “Checking how high the drop is, see if it’s worth it.”

35. "It's cute that you tried to protect me and all, but you're like a foot shorter than me, you know?"

36. "You can touch my hair, but don't mess it up!"

-

HURT/COMFORT PROMPTS

1. "Look, I know we don't know each other that well, but I'm still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone."

2. "If I could, I would kiss away all of your scars."

3. "It's not bad to cry. In fact, I think it makes a person stronger."

4. "Shhh, it was just a bad dream. Just a dream, okay? None of it was real."

5. “You know I’m/we’re always here for you, right?”

6. “Please talk to me about it.”

7. “Do the universe a favor: don’t hide your magic.”

8. “You’re trembling.”

9. “You’ve got to calm down before I can fix you up, okay?”

10. “I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I’m just… really tired.”

11. “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

12. “No, no - it’s alright, come here.”

13. “I’m not going to leave you. You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise.”

14. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."

15. "May I? Free of charge."

16. "If anything were to happen to you..."

17. "I thought I'd see how you were doing."

18. "I'll leave if you ask me to."

19. "You watch the people you care about age and die."

20. "When things get crazy, don't push me away."

21. "No, don't do that it's not safe."

22. "You're scared of that, aren't you?"

23. "I will always step in between you and something like that."

24. "Why? Because I don't want you to get hurt, that's why!"

25. "You can tell me whatever you want... Even if you don't have a reason to."

26. "Please stay. I'd like some company."

27. "Would you pet my hair?"

28. "I just want to be close to someone for a little bit. Is that okay?"

29. "Can I lay my head in your lap?"

30. "Here, lay down in my lap."

31. "You can't keep it all inside, you know? Bottling it up won't do any good."

#ao3fic #ao3 #writing prompts #dialogue prompts #fanfic #fanfiction #just roll with it #markiplier egos #septic egos #loki #dialtown #dream smp #dont hug me im scared #danganronpa #creepypasta #sanders sides #are there more? #there has to be more #there is definitely something wrong with me #there is more

[shiploverr]

I got some inspiration from @thatiranianphantom when they made the post about Toni Topaz and now I am going to do the same about Miss Mary Sue Tabitha Tate and they deserve all the credit ❤️

I DO NOT Like Tabitha Tate and her “Perfect” Character.

Tabitha Tate, granddaughter of our Beloved Pop Tate strolled into Riverdale, The Town Of Pep, in season 5 episode 5x04. You see, whenever there is a new person, who happens to come to Rivervale is suspicious in all aspects. I immediately said, “okay why are you here and what do you want?”

Now, Ms Mary Sue decided to pop up to town to help save Pop’s Chocklit Shoppe and expand its franchise. Cool. My question is, what the holy heavens is she still doing here? She was a business woman from Chicago and just decided to drop everything and come save Pops. My irritation with Tabitha is that we have NO background of her life. None. Zilch. Nada. Shouldn’t that be a warning sign?

For all of you that are quick to call me “racist”, you need to stop where you are. You know nothing about me, my background or who I am as a person, so that right there, gets yeeted out the window.

Let’s uncover all the “not so perfect” things she’s done in our little town of pep, shall we ?

Immediately treated Jughead like shit. Yes that’s right. She automatically called Pop’s HER diner. Like, um, you’ve been here 5 minutes and you’re already telling the one person who called Pops his home that he can’t sit at pops, order coffee and sit there all day trying to write? Um no. Get the fuck out of Riverdale.

After Tabitha and jughead had that almost kiss, he specifically told her that he still wasn’t over his break up with Betty. Then, when he decided to take his magical shroom, without her help the first time, decided “well I said no the first time but since his ex came to town to deliver his yummy fungi, I am going to say I’m his girlfriend and allow him to indulge in it, and watch over him because I like him” 😐 Great Job Tabitha. Wonderful. The trip he took allowed him to disappear but a bloody wrist 🙂 *slow clap* 👏🏼

Oh yeah, remember when Jessica came back to Riverdale for her own agenda to take Jughead’s manuscript and drugged Both Betty and Tabitha? Yeah afterwards, she completely blamed Betty for giving Jessica the manuscript. Like she had nothing to do with it 🤨 trying to appease herself and make it look like she had nothing to do with it. Yeah…

Oh Miss Mary Sue also inserted herself in Jughead’s sobriety. Granted yes, she helped him in the end, but to my knowledge, when someone is an alcoholic, it’s their choice whether or not to get sober. One episode, Jughead mentioned he was worried about Betty being on the highway, and she acknowledged it, then deflected to his sobriety, calling him out on having alcohol breath. 🤨 then proceeded to put her hand on his. How is helping with him his addiction also flirting ? If he can’t worry about Betty, she shouldn’t be throwing herself in an subtle way. Maybe that’s just me …

Tabitha’s lovely parents came to town for Mother’s Day and instead of just indulging her parents by going to a restaurant her MOTHER wanted to go to, she invites Jughead 😐 as her boyfriend. Knowing how vulnerable jughead is, and knowing right now he doesn’t need a distraction/relationship, she inserts him in her family’s bullshít. “Don’t worry about Betty, you need to concentrate on your sobriety. Hey come to dinner with me and my parents as my boyfriend.” Oh let’s not forget that she goes back with him to Archie’s garage. 😑 Hypocritical much? Yeah, NO.

Last but not least, after ONE DATE, she asks him to move in with her. I’m sorry, but does she know how a relationship works? Why the hell would you ask an alcoholic, whose barely get by sober, to move in with you after ONE DATE? That’s doomed for destruction. She has no common sense and decency to allow him to continue his journey to sobriety and allow himself to heal from his still broken heart.

This is ONLY from season 5. I could continue on, but you get the drift that, Tabitha a.k.a. Mary Sue isn’t so perfect. She inserted herself in Jughead’s & Betty’s business without being asked to. You think because now Pops is your diner and that the people that come through that door is now your business? Their lives ? No. You need to go back to Chicago, fix your relationship with your parents and move on. Riverdale isn’t for you. Don’t try to play “I can’t fix him/them” because you’re no superhero. Stop making peoples lives your business. And again… we know NOTHING about you. What are you really running from Ms Tate?

That’s all the energy, time and fucks I want to give to this character. Yes. I do not like Tabitha and probably never will. You have a problem with that? Bite me.

[in-christalone]

Hey, since reading your post with the anon regarding weed, I decided to delve into my Bible and do a little bit of research as well. I'm not by any means trying to argue or say you're wrong, just curious as to your thoughts and opinions on what I have to say. Personally- I don't believe that to use or smoke weed is inherently wrong, especially when used medicinally. Using discernment, knowing your weaknesses and how much you can take, and consuming it wisely, I believe are the ways a Christian should use it. Looking at Genesis 1:29, 9:3 & 1:12, it makes it hard to believe it wasnt put here for our use. Of course just like alcohol (which I'm also curious as to your opinion on considering your use of 1 Peter 5:8, because while I understand what that verse is saying I also am looking at Proverbs 31:6-7, Ecclesiastes 9:7, 1 Timothy 5:23 & John 2:7-9 (why would Jesus turn water to wine if alcohol was inherently sinful, after all. Especially at a wedding where, when they had no wine, they likely could have already ran out *correct me if I'm wrong there, I'm not saying that was the case but rather simply speculating given the event*)) it can be abused, which like abusing any substance, is wrong as it impairs your cognitive function and makes you vulnerable to demonic influence. But for example I know of a girl who would take a couple hits to help regulate her mental health and would only have a couple hits a day. It helped her with her condition tremendously. Even it's recreational use in the right setting, again, with discernment (not using so much that you can't function or anything like that) I wouldn't necessarily look at as being inherently bad.

Note: This is all coming from someone who has never used weed or alcohol. I have no plans to start using it either. So you don't have to worry about whether or not this will lead me to start using. (I've been a little high like once in my life on pain medication after a surgery. Gotta say, not my cup of tea. Very uncomfortable lol.)

(while I'm here and since this is incredibly long anyway I would also like to hear your opinions on sex/marriage. I am adverse to sex and it isn't something I feel I need by any means, but I know I also crave a more romantic relationship. I've read all the verses and remain unconvinced that sex is absolutely necessary for a romantic relationship/marriage and need another Christian's thoughts on it bc I can't tell if my interpretation is correct or if I'm just hearing what I want to hear. I do know that if I would have to have sex to be married though that I likely never will be unless I have a drastic personality change, which is a saddening thought but one I can live with.)

Anyway sorry for the super long ask. No pressure to rush in an answer either, I'm pretty patient. Hope ya have a nice day.

I can understand that, as a person who's never been high you don't know what it's like to even get high for the first time. With drinking, you take it in moderation and there's a limit you can reach up to and know when to stop in order to stop yourself from being drunk,

with smoking weed there is no limit, you take a hit and you're high cause you haven't built up any tolerance to the drug.

So, be sober-minded.

I will say, there are alternatives to weed you can take without being high. When I was getting my tattoo, the artist offered to put a numbing cream on me so the needle wouldn't hurt. I was so surprised because what felt like a cat scratching me up like a postboard 5 minutes ago suddenly felt like nothing? I asked him what was in it and he said it was cannabis stuff, did I get high from it? nope.

I also took home some of his cannabis aftercare stick, smelled like weed but didn't get me high. These uses of weed I can condone.

but inhaling it and getting high off it I cannot and I boldly call it a sin because you aren't sober when you're high.

[sunshineisreal]

Mealspome-

Follow up to my last post, I now have to face some new fears of mine.

1. Soberity from alcohol for at least 1 month - sobriety for me isn't permanent. I just cannot keep on using it as an excuse to engage in unhealthy behaviour or as an escape. I used to be so motivated as a kid, alcohol and drugs took that from me.

2. I like health foods more than processed sugary foods, but I've definitely fallen into a sugar and fat pit because I can not afford good food and living with my mom now. All she buys is unhealthy snacks. Idk what I'm gonna do there, I need a substitute for sugar until I stop craving it.

3. No over eating. 3 meals a day only. Which, when I'm not over eating, is lunch, dinner, something small after dinner. Or lunch, snack, late dinner. So I'm gonna start with no breakfast tomorrow, just so my body can chill for a bit and be reminded it doesn't NEED SUGAR RIGHT THIS SECOND.

4. I've been scared to go outside or face people. My dog is getting fat :( . I need to go outside for daily walks but omg I'm so frightened cause I look like shit. My hair is awful and uuughhhhghdhdhdh. Like, I'm too fat to be seen in public by people who know me. I'm so frightened.

Really, it's just sobriety, and the going outside which scare me the most. I've been dealing with the food shit forever, I'm more familiar with how it goes.

Extra :) : ever since I was a kid I've always wanted buff arms, idc abt abs or legs or butt, I've just really wanted arm muscles, to like, prove I wasn't worthless or something. Regardless of the psychology behind my initial desire, I'm going to start yoga again 😞🫣. If I have arm muscle, I can go a little easier on myself for my diet. But as a petite woman, I feel like this is going to be really hard. Actually, I know it's going to be difficult cause this isn't my first rodeo.

OH ALSO 5. Running again bitch! U don't need to track ur calories or ur steps ok, just run for ONLY 30 SECONDS tomorrow, and I'll love u 🫡

Imagine a future where you are healthy and happy.

Although I'm scared like, ok, so I run and am sober? So what? I'll still be miserable!

That train of thought just popped into my head.

#addiction #food addiction #alcoholics anonymous #alcoholic #sober #sobriety #exercise

[wack-ashimself]

So...I wasn't going to post this but I thought I will forget it, and being it has NEVER happened to me, I might as well...

I entered a meditative state last night (entirely by accident) where...I experienced things as deep and similar as to when I was on psychedelics. But I was sober...

I did what I called the download (it took me 3-4 times in the past to even REMEMBER this happening. It's....one of the most overwhelming things you can EVER experience, and one of the few times I can say 'yeah, I could see how that could drive someone to lose their fucking minds.')

The download is when you get unsustainable amounts of information, so much so you forget your OWN memories and intelligence, and you can only hold onto it for a few minutes before it goes (because your brain can not handle 2 different realities at the same time)

I remembered another life. And I don't think it was a past life because of how much technology was in the information (I grew up in the 90s. I saw the internet evolve. This was WELL after that). I think this was a future/alternative life. And it was hard to deal. It was like (and again, I had this happen before, but it's SO powerful, you can't even try to remember) an entire lifetime of memories being uploaded into the same brain as mine, and me not knowing where I begin and the other person ends.

Again, within...5 minutes ALL of it was forgotten. But those 5 minutes....I felt shame. Not because it was a bad life, but because CLEARLY somewhere in the ether I KNOW of this life, these memories, these experiences, but I am too weak right now to handle that!? WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO?!

Because I know if I can evolve, I can help show people the way.

I mean do you know what started me on this path?

CA. LA. Been there only....3-4 months. Doing a lot of gig work. Met a lot of people. Heard a lot of shit. But I always promised to hear someone out just in case. Talking religion with some random guy. Say all of it is garbage. He said have you looked into spirituality? I said I know of it, but didn't look too deeply cuz there wasn't too much...consistency. A lot of people claimed a lot of things, ya know? And he said 'just do me a favor? Look into a book call the art of grounding. You won't regret it.' So I did. And, again, a lot of it was posh/open for interpretation. But it did say one thing: go outside, bare foot, on the ground directly. Slightly bend your knees, slow breaths, eyes closed, concentrate, and you will feel the flow of the earth's energy thru you. WHAT? BULL SHIT. But again, I had to try. I can't say something is a lie without trying it, ya know? So I did...

#spirituality #life #love #grounding #psychadelics #the download