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ohtobemare · 11 months

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**serious post read at your own discretion**

disclaimer–religious triggers, personal opinions

I'm not usually one for celebrity documentaries.

But, a mutual recommended Val Kilmer's documentary, since he's one of my favorite actors and has been since I was a kid and watched Batman Forever, so I decided to give it a go.

It amazes me that the cream of the crop (read: Michael Jackson, Elvis, Whitney Houston, etc.) always seem to rise out of some of the most tragic childhood and life experiences. Michael Jackson came out of domestic abuse and body dysmorphia. Elvis, the loss of his twin and poverty. Whitney, drugs and alcohol.

For Val– the loss of a brother, his parents' divorce, emotional abuse, and later a divorce himself resulting in separation of his children. He's arguably one of Hollywood's most prolific, real method actors, someone who embodies each and every character with heart and soul. He believes in real storytelling, not the modern knock-off we see in shallow blockbusters today.

He's one of the good ones. From Doc Holliday to Batman to the infamous Iceman, I'd argue that nobody is quite as talented as Val. A fact I've overlooked for a good few years now.

All throughout his career Hollywood and "the business" has labeled him difficult and eccentric because of his dedication to storytelling and authenticity, of keeping true to the theme. Because every movie has a theme, a message it communicates, since film is a medium of communication. He documents an experience in Australia, where a film was completely gutted for the sake of a production schedule, which left him baffled and broken.

And his journey with tracheostomy and throat cancer and the inability to speak. Wow. He really bares his soul and the reality of what fame being stripped away is really like. I cried quite a bit over this documentary, because even robbed of the one thing you absolutely need as an actor –your voice–Val is still 100% committed to the field. To the experience of storytelling. He adapted and threw himself into art, a studio, and documentation of his experiences and what it means to be a storyteller. He's passionate and raw, not swept up in fame.

Hollywood cost him everything. He even says he lost himself for awhile, that Hollywood is like stepping into hell. He's right. Fame will take until there's nothing you can give, and Val is one of the few to transcend actually caring.

Who knows how much of this is *actually* true, since Hollywood is infamous for smoke and mirrors and deception (if you know anything about the dark underworld of the industry) but I'll take it at face value.

Regardless of the question of honest truth, this was a refreshing look into acting. While I think it still ignores, or chooses to hide, the ugly and spiritual side of what it takes to make it in Hollywood, I can't think of a better or more raw approach to explaining the journey of fame and the art of visual storytelling. I always knew Kilmer was good–and there's a reason why. Art is in his soul, just as music was in Michael and Elvis'.

Hollywood took Val Kilmer and ran with him, and left him high and dry and hollow at the end. But, he's choosing to rise out of those ashes. I can commend him for that.

Yet another testament to how we don't know the full story of our peers' lives until we come up close and personal to it. God can make anything out of any backstory–a prostitute to anoint Him for burial, a hotheaded fisherman to become the rock of which He built His church, a shepherd to be the greatest king of Israel.

Despite Val not serving the same God or understanding the same Jesus Christ that I do, his life is a picture of just exactly what the world can offer you. Nothing. There is freedom in forsaking the standards of society and pursuing what God has destined for you, unabashedly. I can only pray Val Kilmer, and the host of others like him, can come to knowledge of who he is in Christ, and experience the passionate love of Christ's salvation.

10/10 documentary, and I hardly EVER give full marks. Worth your watch.

See Yas, From a former film reviewer

#val kilmer #movie recs #val documentary #fangirl #christianity #in all seriousness #my thoughts #val kilmer is officially my first stan

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luzuraaa · 1 year

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byler fanfic recs !

these are all of my byler fanfic recs :)

also, you may have seen this post on my old account @scrunklykou but i decided to just copy it to here so i could continue updating it. i am not copying them given that they are me lmao

favorite of all time !

force of gravity - oceanfruit

literally the best fic i’ve ever read tbh. it’s got slow burn, angst, fluff, all the good stuff you know? idek how to describe the emotions i felt while reading this but it was an amazing experience. definitely my #1 byler fic recommendation 🫶

one shots !

i’d love to see me from your point of view - unidentifiedblackthorn

Mike and Will get high on Jonathan’s weed and Mike has an amazing idea.

you know me better than i do - unidentifiedblackthorn

Will can't avoid Mike forever, and they talk about what happened the day they got high together.

the right idea - candlelitheart

the basis for this fic is loosely inspired by the scene where jonathan and nancy get together in season two because i think it's one of the cutest scenes ever.

kiss it better - beansie

Mike and Will, through the years and in between the lines of friendship and something more.

magnetic pull - pressedviolets

Mike gets drunk at a party and kisses a boy. Will catches them together and is understandably confused.

sweeter than candy - smpshift

where Mike realizes he's head over heels for Will at 3 AM and mindlessly rides his bike across Hawkins just to tell him.

garden song - bafflingyew

Will is rooted to the ground, heart pounding. He wants this. He wants this so bad, but he needs to know that Mike is sure. He needs to know that he’s serious. He needs to know.

home is where the heart is - snoosnoom (moonsooms)

Living in a shared apartment with Will is all Mike could ask for, except for the part where he keeps thinking about kissing Will in the middle of their kitchen.

what do you do now, will the wise? - rainbownixie

The party is playing D&D together and Mike, as the dungeon master, won’t stop trying to make the Paladin and the Cleric flirt. He’s basically making moves on Will through the game. Will is caught off guard by this, and doesn’t know how to respond to the following question:

What do you do now, Will the Wise?

Everything comes down to a simple roll of dice.

the wooing of will byers (and other mishaps) - softzombieboy

With El still in confinement and Dustin increasingly preoccupied the remaining four members group together. Lucas and Max are inescapably a couple now, which makes it a little awkward for Mike and Will as they are unintentionally tagging along on dates. It is especially uncomfortable because Mike keeps insisting that he and Will do the same romantic things as their friends.

a little of that human touch - poetic patron

Will wakes up from a nightmare and Mike helps in the best way he knows how: Cuddles. Which would be fine, except for the fact he's been trying to hide his feelings for his best friend since the moment he touched down in California.

are you happy? - twistedrocketpower

Hopper doesn't care that Will is gay. He doesn't care that Will is in a relationship with a boy. He only cares that the boy is Mike Wheeler, the bane of his existence. He wants to make sure Will knows what he's doing, so he has a little chat with his stepson.

a three step plan to make will byers fall in love - romeowrites

The party concocts a three-step plan to get Will Byers to fall in love assuming, of course, that he hasn’t already.

busy tone - spaceeggscreams

Mike calls Will after a bad day, hoping to get through to his best friend after he's moved away. Instead, he's confronted with a busy tone. He talks anyway.

defensive positions - on_the_rook_cliff

Will and Mike end up cornered and Will becomes protective while Mike becomes flustered.

yes this is a byler fic but i wrote it at 5am and couldn’t think of a title - lillajoba

Just two bros being totally platonic in a motel room.

dance where the rain won’t hurt us - venusperia

mike wheeler doesn't love art — he just loves will byers.

four lessons about you - lia (liastories)

A collection of four times where Mike discovered new methods to make Will feel safe in his company, including how his ‘Will voice’ was born.

are you still mine? - shoto_scribbles

How music brings Mike and Will closer than any trauma could.

more than anyone else - idkilike5sos

An imagining of what would've happened if Will had been at home when Mike and Lucas went to apologise after the fight in season 3.

i want to dance with somebody (somebody who loves me) - beanwithaq

It's the S2 snowball but everyone is actually gay. Including the girl who Will is dancing with and Jennifer Hayes. Who really wanted to dance with that girl

birds of a feather flock together - bundibird

"You know," Robin tells Mike, her voice low and calm and soothing. "You can like both girls and boys."

Steve jerks in his seat like someone slapped him.

"What!?" he splutters, and it comes out as something halfway between a yelp and a squawk.

I Never Find Out 'Til I'm Head Over Heels - orphan_account

Wherein Mike believes he’s being obvious, Will doesn’t know what he believes, and the pair of them could use a lesson or two in effective communication. Somehow all of this has both nothing and everything to do with five years' worth of school dances.

eyecatcher - smoosnoom (moonsooms)

While volunteering at the Hawkins' help center, it seems like every girl around has a newfound interest in Will Byers, and Mike doesn't know why he feels the way he does.

you had me for a minute there - delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy)

senior year in hawkins

sealed with a kiss - astrobi

Listen. No one should ever let Mike make decisions right after he wakes up from a nap, okay? Especially not decisions where Will is concerned. This is so not his fault.

Follow Your Heart 'Til it Bleeds - teej_318

Will and Richie spend the summer bonding over their feelings for their friends Mike and Eddie. Robin gives them some much-needed advice when they hang out at Scoops Ahoy.

you got a fast car - castlebyer

it's spring of 1989, will and mike are young and in love. loosely based on how the song fast car by tracy chapman makes me feel minus the sad ending bc who wants that ?

Down to the Heart - disaster_energy

Mike doesn’t actually think Jonathan’s doing it on purpose, but he's starting to have his doubts.

Or, 5 times Jonathan shatters the moment and one time he doesn't.

dance with me (I think I really like you) - borealisaurora

Mike feels sad after coming back to his dorm from a party, and he reveals to his roommate Will that he’s never danced with anyone before. Will decides to change that :)

(College AU set in the 80s!)

Sober Thoughts - idk_ilike5sos

After an awkward game of spin the bottle at a party, Will takes Mike back to his place and receives a drunken confession about the game.

Walk of Shame - idk_ilike5sos

Mike wakes up in Will's bed, hungover after attending a party the night before. It's normal. Everything's fine... then he remembers.

make me your future history - andiwriteordie

A story of Will and Mike’s past, present, and plans for the future, told in seven parts.

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? - BoNUKA5

It's the end of 1988, and Mike is determined to confess his feelings to his best friend, Will. He hatches a plan to confess on New Year's Eve, because what is more romantic than kissing on New Year's Eve?

that funny feeling - delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy)

"So you- you haven't, like. Kissed anyone, then?" Mike asks, fully aware that he should probably just quit while he's ahead but needing to know, suddenly, if Will has any sort of romantic entanglements that he's neglected to tell Mike about. He's not sure why, but there's something in his gut that demands to know, has some sort of sudden need to know if Will has kissed anyone that's not him.

If Will has kissed anyone that's not-

Wait, what?

or: Mike is jealous of himself.

you in my heart - soukeye

It was sundown. Mike finally had the courage to look at Will straight in the face, witnessing up close the rosy blush on his cheeks and his long eyelashes. Mike Wheeler is so lucky to have a best friend like Will Byers. So lucky it made his heart hurt. Is this normal? Is this what close friendship is like? Because never did he feel so much with Lucas and Dustin, his heart practically palpitating with the only thoughts clouding his mind being the boy staring at him so affectionately.

undertow - beansie

Will has never had his first kiss. Mike is happy to lend a hand.

I don't quite know what to say (but I'm here in your doorway) - mikeslawyer

Mike confesses to Will - then kisses him. They don't talk about it, but maybe they should.

he's gonna notice me (it's okay, we're the best of friends) - mikeslawyer

Will gets sick and tired of never knowing if someone has a crush on him, so he asks for advice. Why do all the signs point to Mike?

in progress !

why would you ever kiss me? - aghostlybreath

When Eleven saves Will from Vecna she gets more than she bargained for when they wake up in the wrong bodies. Now to prevent Vecna from infiltrating the mind of his most perfect host the two of them must pretend to be the other.

i think we have a lot in common - teddythebear

Eddie Munson Adopts Will Byers because Gay Found Family is my favorite trope!

god, just kiss already! - californiasummer

5 times the Party watched Mike and Will uselessly pine after another + 1 time they did something about it.

as the world ends, i'll find my home in you - romeowrites

The end of the world was almost peaceful. And then the screaming started.

My version of Stranger Things 5.

a loserparty groupchat <;3 - heydorothea18

Mike refuses to tell Richie anything about his friends. Naturally, this is an issue because Richie feels the need to make his cousin's life torture. After a thorough Instagram stalking (with Bev's help), a group chat is created.

When It's Over - ikrannn

Mike Wheeler disappeared from his family's household in Minnesota due to a wolf attack two years ago. One year ago, he came back to them in Hawkins Indiana, where he met his Party and the Losers Club. Now, he hopes that he can survive the turmoils of high school and balance being inhuman on top of that.

OR, haha werewolf fic go BRRR

The Search is Over - ur_ur_ur_mom

Mike moves to Hawkins from Chicago and completely changes Will Byers life.

i'll be your quiet afternoon crush - heydorothea18

Mike hadn't planned on getting arrested on his last day of summer vacation, but at least the chief of police had a cute son.

In Max's mind, getting arrested wasn't that huge of a deal. Getting arrested alongside Mike Wheeler, however, was. And El- the chief of police's daughter- was the biggest deal of all.

Rock 'n' Roll - bylerisc4non

One fateful October night in 1995, Will Byers is dragged by his step-sister, Jane, and her best friend to a rock concert. That was just the beginning…

Or, it's the 90s, Will's in college, Mike's in a band, and there's some...tension.

The Webbing of my Heart - kindoffruityig

Will Byers was a normal 16-year-old living in New York. That was until he got bit by a radioactive spider which changed the trajectory of his mundane life. As Will experiments with his new powers, he finds that he can help people, and save them from the everyday crimes that happen around the city of New York. Juggling his superhero life and his normal life is no easy job so Will has to put his all into it. Through his adventures of being a superhero, he pushes away those that were once the closest to him and has to deal with the responsibility of keeping a whole city safe and also keeping up with his ever-growing pile of schoolwork. Will he be able to keep his identity secret? Can he fight off the dangers that are headed for New York City? The only way to find out is to read, so enjoy!

completed !

i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this) - blackdeathmamba

five times Mike kissed Will, and one time Will kissed back.

A Box of Unsent Letters Under My Bed, All Addressed To You - adhd_bisexual_nonbeany

Mike Wheeler doesn't understand why he can't just put a stamp on the envelope and place the letters in the mailbox

ill add more as i read more ! if your fanfic is in here and you want it removed, just comment/dm me. :)

also keep in mind that if you reblog this, any updates i add after that won’t show up on your reblog. if you want to see if i added more fics just go to the original post !

last updated 4/30

#byler #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things #byler fanfic #🧺💐

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otp-holic · 3 years

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Stucky Week: Angst

For @stucky-week angst... I present you with:

A lost, unshot scene where we find Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier) getting a glimpse of his past during a mission in 1962.

1. THE LOST SCRIPT

2. THE LOST STORYBOARD

3. THE LOST (ALREADY MADE) PROPS & CONCEPT SHOTS

4. OPENING THE SUITCASE: FROM SCRIPT TO CONCEPT ART

5. THE SCRIPT (full text) + My ramble

A festive and sunny day of 1962. Lots of people in a typical Sunday flea market in the city.

We see the WINTER SOLDIER in disguise watching a couple who is looking at old lamps across from him. The man is his new mission, so he is alert but laying low and mingling as he awaits the final order.

The couple takes a sudden turn and starts crossing the street and facing his way, so the WINTER SOLDIER turns toward the closest market stand hiding his face away from them.

This market stand is one of those places where they sell old pictures by the lot: full of faded photos, postcards with wet burry ink, and faces forgotten by time. But something there catches the WINTER SOLDIER‘s attention.

It’s an old suitcase. Brown stripes consumed by time framing a tag that says “SGR” in what were once shiny golden letters.

The WINTER SOLDIER is confused. Mission uncharacteristically going to the back of his mind, focus shifted to a distant recognition of something unknown.

PICTURES’STAND OWNER

(interrupting his thoughts)

They don’t do them like that anymore, uh? I believe it’s from the ’20s. A little worn on the edges but still good to go.

The WINTER SOLDIER looks at the man, confusion over his face.

PICTURES’STAND OWNER

You can open that if you want; but carefully, please, I think there’s stuff inside.

The WINTER SOLDIER says nothing but can feel himself nodding and reaching for the suitcase as if the actions were being performed by somebody else, while the PICTURES’STAND OWNER goes after another potential client.

He opens the suitcase and sees the inside: it’s filled with boxes, postcards, and pictures. An enclosed version of the stand it was lying on.

He scans the content and the feeling of recognition on those pictures lies heavily on his chest, distressing him.

He is distressed but also drawn to the handwriting on the envelopes and the faces of the young boys on the pictures that are all over the suitcase looking at him from below.

The WINTER SOLDIER is freezing. He doesn’t know who that people are, and yet...

He takes one picture in his hands: a dark haired boy (features very much like his) posing broodily somewhere that looks like an amusement park.

Something alien and unrecognizable keeps happening to the WINTER SOLDIER: He’s feeling his heart in his throat and the start of a cold sweat breaking in while a weird smell of burnt bacon and a distant voice whispering “Buck, you handsome jerk” keep sinking him more and more away from his surroundings; the need to have this picture for himself, to steal the whole suitcase full of smiling faces and run somewhere far away taking hold of him.

PICTURES’STAND OWNER

Are you ok, sir? You are a little white there. Want to take any of that… I believe it’s a bargain and…

The voice breaks the WINTER SOLDIER out of his state of mind.

Mind clearer, he knows the Winter Soldier doesn’t own things, the Winter Soldier doesn’t even own himself. The Winter Soldier doesn’t decide where to run.

What the Winter Soldier does is to follow orders, so he quickly scans the market in seach of his mission: The couple are further away that he would have liked but still easy to follow.

The WINTER SOLDIER takes one final look at the picture still in his gloved hand, recognition lost but confusion still in the back of his mind.

He leaves the picture on the suitcase and follows the couple.

My ramble and the happy ending I might explore: This has been on my "To Do" for a long time now and I don't think it's ever going to turn out the way I expected... so here it is. Decaffeinated but done. My heart suffers for poor Bucky but this scene would not leave me alone.

I'm obsessed with fanfics/art exploring what might have happened with Steve and Bucky's personal things while they were "un-alive".

My end for this particular piece is something along the lines of Becca finding it it in another Flea not long after this, and although she was shocked with some of the pictures/writings inside, she kept it because she loved the boys. Fast forward to Steve and Bucky being in the 21st century happy and together forever... and the suitcase somehow makes its way to them. I don't have the details figured out, and I want to explore all that, but in case I can't... YOU HAVE TO KNOW THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING.

Also I will put all the manips on a separate post at some point, but right now I cannot stand the thought of facing my million unnamed photoshop layers trying to extract them 🤣

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lovesgonnabe · 3 years

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Love Is Worth It - Mini Episode I: Happy Mothers Day

Characters: Chris Evans x Maya Alonso-Evans (Black OFC)

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, cursing,daddy kink, fake IG Post.

Word Count: IDK Yet(Soon)

Summary: What happens when there is a surprise on the Horizon?

AN/Disclaimer: There’s only slight edits so there may be errors. Also if you haven’t noticed this series will have many time jump things referenced here may make more sense later on in the series when new episodes come out so please bear with me.

Taglist: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss, @canadian-girl87, @i-just-like-fanfics, @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful if you would like to join the taglist let me know.

Please leave a note and tell me what you think!

May 9th, 2021

Boston was moving from chilly too warm with still more cold days than not. Boston at this time was beautiful even The Evans home was littered with flowers. The beginning of 2021 has been eventful for the Evans Family.

Chris's A Starting Point has taken off like no one had expected, doing incredible number in educating a whole generation on one of Chris’s passions politics and the world.

While Maya within the few months has launched her skincare line Lavish Lilah Skin, and has been able to open back up her dermatology offices with the slowing down of the current devastating pandemic.

This Mothers Day for the family of 3 was different but the same at the same time.

Maya's Birthday has just passed, Chris filming schedule will pick up in the Summer and for the last year Delilah has been homeschooled.

With work picking up for the couple May 9th was a beautiful day for the Evans to just relax and be together as a family.

Its 9 am and Maya was sprawled in the middle of their California King Bed as Chris and Delilah were in the downstairs getting Maya's Mothers Day Gift ready.

"Ok Lilah you've got mommy's gifts and I've got the food you ready?" Chris asked with the tray in his hand.

Delilah nodded and they headed up the steps to the master bedroom the 5 year old ran up too the room first leaving Chris in her dust.

"Mom wake up its Mommy Day" Delilah said trying to climb the large bed.

Maya began to stir awake with a smirk on her face when she heard her baby girl struggle to to get up on the bed.

Delilah hooped on the outerman at the front of the bed and climbed to her mom laying up on Chris's said of the bed.

Delilah began to play with Maya's face.

"mommy get up me and daddy have gifs" Delilah said trying to open Maya's eyes with her little fingers.

Maya breaks out into a laugh now completely awake and pulling Delilah into a big hug kissing her all over the face.

When Chris walked in his two favorite girls were both laughing their heads off the sunlight in the room glowed on their golden skin as their smiling faces brought a bright smile to his.

"Are you two having fun without me" Chris asked as he walked to Maya's side of the bed.

Chris lays the tray on the night stand, pecking Maya on the lips mumbling a sweet Happy Mothers Day against her lips as he pulls her into a deeper kiss just enjoying the taste of her sinful lips.

When they pull away Maya moves over to make room for Chris in their large bed.

Delilah and Chris handed over the gifts to Maya, it wasn't a lot just some small things a card made by Maya from her zoom arts class, a mini breakfast in bed and more flowers *like she needed anymore*.

"Sweetheart I told you that you didn't have to do anything for me for Mothers Day especially everything you have done for me recently" Maya said taking sip from her coffee mug.

Chris chuckles thinking about the last few months, and he has been what you would call a rockstar husband.

With the pandemic Chris has been home a lot more he dropped a film he planned to star in and went full throttle on ASP which kept him home a lot making him kind of a stay home dad.

Chris did everything from some cooking to cleaning to school with Delilah. Him staying home was not only for him to do ASP and spend more time with his family but to let Maya work and bring her employess back so she can get her dermotobly practice back to as close to 100% as she can during a pandemic.

Not only that Chris hosted a surprise launch party/brithday party for Maya's new skincare venture in early April that was a small get together with all there closest friends and family (that were vaccinated). Even flying her parents who they haven’t seen in a year out to see them. (who were still in town and staying out in their guest home)

The three were still sitting in bed watching cartoons.

"My love if you thought today would go by and I would not celebrate you then you are out of your mind" Chris said kissing Maya's head.

The last four months have really shown Chris how much he admires Maya because everything he has been doing is what Maya has been doing since Dede was born.

So at least for today Chris was pulling out the red carpet for love of his life, after an hour of just lazying around Chris grabbed a now napping Delilah and told maya that she need to be dressed and ready to leave the house by 1pm which was 2 hours from the current time.

When 1pm hit the Evans and the Alonsos were out of the house and all in Maya's Truck.

They drove the 3 hours to the Alonso Family Estate in Martha's Vineyard and with Maya having absolutely no idea where they were going she grew antsy because unbeknownst to everyone in the car except her mother Maya was now Pregnant with her and Chris's second child and she was afraid she was going to have an accident in the car.

Maya was about 16 weeks how she has hide being pregnant from Chris for that long is a surprise and a miracle on its own.

However she just wanted to wait until she was absolutly sure that she could carry a complete trimester before telling anyone but her mom because her and Chris have tried 5 times after Delilah and has miscarred everytime.

All that faliure takes a toll not only on your body but on your psyche and she didn’t want to keep getting Chris's hopes up to keep failing him.

Even though he has been there through it all to hold her when she cries thinking about it or pick her up from the pool of blood in the middle of the night he was there holding her hand, but the of how many more times will he be able to do this with her still creeps in the back of Maya's mind.

Her mom's reassuring smile kept her calm while Chris and Maya held hands the entire ride up as they rolled up around 5pm to the estate that had multiply cars in the driveway.

When they walked in Maya's Brothers were both there along with Chris's parents, siblings and their kids.

Chris explained to Maya that with the kids out of school they all decided to being summer vacation a bit early.

As the night went on the all talked, laughed, ate good food and enjoyed each others company as one huge blended family.

It was coming up around 7pm it was golden hour outside and Maya knew for some reason it was time to tell Chris.

As Maya walked outside closet to the horses her mom followed.

"May baby cakes its time you can't live in fear forever" handing the ultrasound she kept in her purse and walking back into the house Maya took a deep breath as she sipped on her water and looked at sun hint the vinyard in the most majestic way.

"Maya you ok your mom wanted me to come and check in on you" Chris asked walking next to Maya who bit her lip which she did whenever she was nervous.

"Babe whats wrong" Chris knew something wasn't right the her body langague was and Chris could read his wife.

Maya tightly gripped the ultrasoud and turned toward Chris looking into his ocean blue eyes made her weak at the knees but she needed to focus.

She handed him the photo

"For the last 16 weeks or so I haven't found a way to tell that we are pregant and I guess this is it I am sorry I waited so long" Maya Says.

She smirks trying to keep it light hearted and Chris Smiles not even taking enough time to really process the new information with tears in his eye picking up Maya who squeals as he spins her around.

"I hope you know I knew already” he says putting her down leaving his arms around her waist.

"What do you mean you knew" Maya asked as her eyebrows frowned as she looked up at him.

"You underestimate how well I know your body" Chris says rubbing his hands up and down the curves of her body till her reached her ass giving it a good squeeze.

"Also you definitely did not hide this ultrasound that well so when I did first have hunch you had already confirmed it to me without even knowing it" Chris said.

He gave Maya his trademark smile and kissed his wife like his life depended on it.

"why didn’t you tell me you knew" she asked breaking the sweet embrace of the two lovers.

"the same reason you didn't I know that with you even though I hate it, some times I need to just watch from the sideline before you can put me in coach, but next time please do wait this long" Chris said.

Maya eyebrow raised "who said there will be a next time you better be lucky you are even getting 2 out of me sir" she said.

Chris laughs "thats what your mouth is saying now we will see what it says later when you riding papi's cock" He said kissing her lips even harder as they fought for domanice.

They knew both of there families were inside and thats why they stopped and just stood enjoying each others company.

"lets take a picture babe for memories" Chris said.

They pulled apart and Maya laughed .

"Chris look at you trying to take flicks for the gram" Maya said posing next to her favorite horse.

Chris took the picture and put it on his instagram along with a picture of Maya when she was pregnant with Delilah.

Chris laughed grapped her hand and they walked inside and told everyone the good news.

This will definaly be a Mothers Day they would never forget!

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x black ofc #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x black reader

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therogueheart · 2 years

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your post gives me ideas: a very young napoleon having nightmares about what he went through at that age. problem is he is used to dealing with things by himself and doesn’t want anyone to think he is ‘weak’. all cocky and smug stances would drop and you know his partner would hate to see him so helpless

Referring to this post.

I'd give my left tit to see Napoleon, the real Napoleon, show through the cracks if there's ever a sequel movie. Its endlessly fascinating to know that the Napoleon Solo we see is never the real Napoleon Solo. He's always wearing a mask, switching them out like chewing gum, like its a game.

And I know, I just know, that even if its in a platonic context and not a romantic one, Illya Kuryakin would be the one to peel off those masks and unearth the real person beneath them. 'Leo would fight him the entire way, but Illya just keeps pulling on those threads, one by one, until the person 'Leo crafted himself into falls apart and he's left bare beneath the scraps.

In the context of 'Leo getting de-aged I'm thinking maybe he steps out of the shower, looks in the mirror at this face. This face that came Before. When he was Napoleon Solo: Army Grunt, not Napoleon Solo: Secret Agent. His eyes are no longer hardened diamonds but scratched glass, showing the horrors of someone who left their soul behind in the mud and blood of the trenches.

This face, that belongs to this body, with the star-shaped bullet scars and the slice on his palm where dumb fucking luck and panic response saved him from getting his throat slit.

And its too much. Those eyes, this face, this body. Flayed down raw and stripped of the armor he crafted out of himself.

He hides.

Illya finds him there, in a shirt three sizes too big, red-eyed and shaking, the mirror in the bathroom nothing but fragments and sharp shards spread like ashfall across the bathroom floor. And Illya thought he'd seen all sides of 'Leo but now there's this one; the terrified boy hiding behind the mask of a man, burdened with all the pain and fear that Napoleon Solo buries deep.

This is the boy who crawled off the battlefield and vowed to live. The boy who nearly died so he became a glutton for life; fast cars, pretty women, beautiful jewels and art, always said to be the true passion of life. Art, which captures everything and holds it forever. Beauty, pain, love, sadness, joy.

Illya's never been good with words. The KGB didn't need words; words were rich men in sleek suits who sat behind tables and decided how they were going to send men to die.

The KGB needed a hammer. A gun. The silent shape of death moving from one target to the next. Death has never needed a voice.

He's not good with touch, either. These hands... They do not comfort. They are not gentle. Nobody has ever turned to them to be soothed, calmed. When he touches people, its to kill. To take. Life or objects and information that will in turn take and save other lives.

But Napoleon... Napoleon has never shied from him. From his touch or his voice. Napoleon knows exactly what his hands have done and he still leans into them when Illya pulls him up off the floor, out of the corner he'd backed into like a wounded animal.

And 'Leo is so much lighter than he was the last time Illya picked him up, bloody and beaten but smirking. Miss me, Peril?

'Leo looks away, can't meet his eyes, silent and shaking and vulnerable, truly, for the first time. Not in all the small ways he's ever granted Illya over the years, the nuggets of trust handed over like so much gold, invaluable. But broken like dropped eggshell, cracked and crumbled.

The 'old' 'Leo kept the nightmares at bay with whiskey and sex, self-medicated into a dreamless, dark slumber. Those he couldn't chase away he buried, deeper than any body, sordid secrets that marked him like scars.

This one. This one wakes up on a scream, eyes wild and wet, and immediately rolls over into the fortress of Illya's arms, nose buried in the crook of his neck where the musk of his aftershave and the thrum of his pulse stand sentry against the echoes of the gunfire and the cannons and the screams.

All his life, Illya has been the weapon, but tonight Illya is the shield.

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not-ur-normie · 3 years

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Cristal witches, aka Sasha making headcanons for the world of Eldarya

I have this idea since forever at this point, so I figured it wouldn't hurt a fly to talk about it a little. It comes from years before when I wanted my OC to not be human but some kind of magic creature, so here we go.

English is not my first languange, so I am apologizing in advance.

Note: Throughout the post, the timespan is after the Blue Sacrifice, but I will talk about that too later on.

Who are cristal witches?

Cristal witches are witches who hold power connected to maana.

The bigger maana surronds them, the bigger their powers get

The reason they are called cristal witches is because they can form a connection with the Crystal

They are creatures with big potencial to play big roles in Eldarya, but that is exactly the point where things go wrong

More about witches

Most cristal witches are women, it's really rare when a male is born and inherits magical power, but there are cases when it happens

There were never any worry about them dying out, since the genes are VERY strong

When a male and female cristal witch have a child who is also one, they turn out way stronger then the others who only have one parent being one

Don't get me wrong, one parent makes the kid already strong as it is, but two parents are just a whole new level

Cristal witches all have tattoos, all in different colors. Most of the time the colors don't have anything to do with the powers they can hold, but lighter colors indicate lighter powers, meaning: lighter colors can't use magic that requires bigger maana usage, like black magic, or healing magic

(If you play the game, you sure know the voodoo outfit, I based the tattoos on those tattoos, so you can see the colors if you google it)

Since cristal witches are a heavily mixed community thanks to the overload of women, there are times where kids inherit both of their parents specific genetics

It's rare tho, because of the witch genes mixing up with other races' is not that common

But when it happens, it always gains attention

Cristal witches are not just cristal witches because they are connected to the Crystal, but because they literally have crystals all over their body

These crystals are mostly small ones and has the color of the tattoos

They are really human-like, so if they can hide their tattos and crystals they can perfectly blend in, which did come handy at some point

Their lifespan is about 150-200 years

They are able to open the portal to the human world

(here you can see the children of my OC [Chrystal] and Ezarel, who were lucky enough to inherit both of their parents genes, so they are witches with elf ears.)

How did they live?

Back then cristal witches lived in small communities, mostly small villages, but there where some communities living a full nomad life

Since they live so long, there were not many of them to begin with

These smaller communities lived close to each other way back then, but the nomad communities started to move around after a while

These are highly spiritual communities, especially that they are fully able to communicate with the Oracle if they wish so

They had special type of education, where witches were learning to use basic magic, while non-witches who lived with them learned alchemy

They had strict rules, that everybody needed to follow, they weren't allowed to use their power randomly

They needed to get an approval to use magic that requires more manna than your basic magic, and also to use dangerous or risky magic

If somebody went against this rule more than 5 times, they got their magic taken away

They choose new leader every year, although if a leader was good, they sticked with them and kept on picking them

The leader was not leading alone, although they made the final decisions

There were many smaller position available next to the leader, which are also chosen by the other witches

Overally they are really pieceful, so the conflicts are not that common

Cristal witches are able to do many things with magic, but it takes a lifetime to gain a really controlled power, so older, well-educated witches are highly respected and the leader was chosen from them most of the times

Some really strong witches are even able to bring back people from the death, but only if they're right there when the death happens

The Blue Sacrifice

The reason that Cristal witches were never part of the council that planned out the Sacrifice was that the races forming the council agreed that Eldarya could need them in the future (and they were damned right)

Before the Sacrifice taken place, witches were not that strong than after it happend

I imagine it the way, that once the sacrifice was made, Eldarya alone had more maana than when the two worlds were one and since witches' powers are mostly maana based, it made their powers grow way stronger than before

(I hope this makes sense lol)

Where things went wrong

As I mentioned before, they are creatures with big potential

When the Blue Sacrifice went wrong, the races in Eldarya needed the witches help the most

Almost every community, town, villige, whatever had at least one witch living with them to help out whenever there were high need

The problem is, that there was always high need; as we know Eldarya was in trouble

With the help of the witches it was easier to go for supplies to the human world, although only those communities could do this who had stronger, more experienced witches

There were even witches who were able to cast spells and make the field able to grow some edible plants

And this is exactly where things went terribly wrong

Since cristal witches have a high value, there were many who hunted them or tortured them for their powers

Why? Well, I know all the above reasons would be enough, but there are more to it

Cristal witches' blood is able to make the lifespan of whoever drinks it longer

And not just that, but it can completely function as food, it stops hunger for longer periods of time (weeks, sometimes months, depending on power) and makes the immune system 100% healthy

It was also used for really expensive medication

You know what else is really valuable? The tears of witches.

It can fasten healing and was used for many medication as well as their blood

But only tears that hold heavy emotions count, since the tear drops turn into little crystals

These informations spread real fast after a while and witch hunts became so serious that at one point several communities started to think that it would be better to sacrifice them as well so maybe Eldarya could gain its full balance [the Guard of El also wanted this, just in case you were curious]

Witches would've 100% sacrificed themselfs if they got asked by the time the Blue Sacrfice happend

But after all the terror they went through, their trust was completely broken

They did not want to die for all these selfish folks wanting to murder them, not thinking about their race for a single second

So one day they completely vanished

Nobody knows how exactly, the common guess was that they opened the portal and moved to the human world, giving up on their magic

I mean everything was better than dying for your murderers

After the vanish

Of course, not all of the witches vanished, but the witch communities that lived together

Those who lived in certain places helping out stayed there

Back then the Guard of El had a witch with them too

Sadly, they got scared of her possibly gaining control over the guard, since she was very much loved... So they decided to kill her [yes, they wanted to sacrifice her, and then killed her, way to go]

The last known cristal witch was a male, living with the Fenghuangs, but he died just before The Origins' story starts

But... Are they really all gone?

Okaaaay soooo I bet there are stuff in this which doesn't exactly fit the story and/or I remember incorrectly, but it is what it is.

On the very first art you can see my OC named Chrystal. Well, she arrives to Eldarya the same way Erika did in the original story, the main difference is that she turnes out to be a cristal witch and this fact leaves the guard in a numb shock. Suddenly the only living cristal witch is with them and that is changing their situation entirely.

I am sure I will write down Chrystals story with illustratons and whatnot, but currently I am working on my Moonligh Lovers' OC's illus, so that will take some time.

Anyway, this will have another part, I wanna at least introduce Chrystal so you can see a cristal witch in action, hurray.

Ah, yeah, if there are facts from the game messed up, feel free to tell me, I am not biting. You can also use this idea for your ocs, I don't mind. Hugs<3

#eldarya #eldarya new era #eldarya the origins #eldarya headcanons

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unetherealfeelings · 4 years

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Sushant Singh Rajput

**Trigger Warning**- Suicide, Depression

I apologise, this will be a long post, but I felt the need to spill my thoughts and possibly gain some closure. Please bear with me 🥺☹️

I think it’s been over a week I have been sulking and hiding away in the recesses of my mind. Ever since I found out about Sushant Singh Rajput’s death, I haven't been able to get over it as I normally do with celebrities. I feel a sense of despair and misery and they don't seem to be dissipating anytime soon. For better or worse I have resorted to watching his films that I haven't caught up on. I think in some twisted way I believe that watching his past films will bring me some form of closure. But really it’s deepening the ache in my heart, with the realisation he wouldn't be around for another brilliant performance, that shatters me.

I partly blame myself for this ache. I feel responsible as an avid movie watcher, I have always been aware of his films, I simply didn't take the leap of faith to watch them, if only I had, I would have understood the depth of his talent earlier.

In fact, I recently got around to watching Detective Byomkesh Bakshy and the ease of how he slipped into the role of a brilliant eccentric Sherlock-Esque character blew my mind. The role completely irradiated the actor’s presence behind the character and I completely and utterly believed he was the Detective. It is a testament to his acting prowess and the ability to slip into roles in almost a seamless manner as if, they were made especially for him.

Then there was Sonchiriya, what a helluva ride that film was, yet again I was completely convinced watching him as an outlaw bhaagi blindly following his iron-hearted leader, then later the despair from his leader's death and the final conviction to do the right thing for the once in his life. It was every bit heart wrenching and soulful watching Lakhna, finally receive the redemption he so desperately sought.

Speculations and News Coverage

I have been reading the speculations around his death, all over the world, people are trying to come to terms with his death whether it was pre-mediated murder or really a suicide. The fact of the matter is no matter what the conclusion turns out to be, he’s gone forever and solving this case isnt going to bring him back. I think even now days later I haven't come to terms with it. How could it happen? What exactly transpired leading him to make such a drastic decision? Who is to blame for his untimely death? Ultimately, there is a pain in the realisation that a man every bit talented and bright as him, had decided at some point that death would be the only way out. Pain, that to some extent the industry he worked and poured his soul into, may have played a part in his terminal downfall.

Oh and don't get me started on the media's news coverage. I haven't seen such a degraded level of humanity than what journalists, TV channels and reporters have displayed these past few days. Has a human life become so worthless that you refuse to give mourners the right to grieve in peace, the soul of the departed to rest in peace? That you had to share such confidential pictures of such a sensitive case all over the internet? It absolutely disgusts me, that there are people out there who would be willing to sell their dignity, shame and morals for TRPs. Utter scum, that’s all.

Change is vital for great films and great artists

Regarding the clusterfuck of emotions, accusations and outrage happening in Bollywood right now, I believe it had to happen at some point. I’m heartbroken that it took a preventable death for Bollywood and the audience to finally break this dam. I hope and pray that a productive and significant change is brought on by the chaos, that this outrage isn't one that merely blows over in the coming days. There needs to be a solid change in Bollywood which grants promising and genuine fledgeling talent easier access to auditions, directors/producers without needing the backing of big names, money or godfathers. And, what even is the need for an elite society of Bollywood stars? We get it, you make good movies and are bankable profit bringers, but if you can't even be decent humans and refuse to get off your high horses then I don't see the point of even worshipping such ‘stars’. As long as we the audience, the film watchers support art made by the sub-par talent of nepotism spawn. Filmmakers, talent agents and producers won't be pressured into actually producing good quality films with talent that actually deserve a chance to shine in the starry filmy world.

Your Mental Health is in your hands

I think the most important takeaway of this horrifying incident is the fragility of life and the value of prioritising your mental health. Listen, you are precious, your life is precious and you are worth so much more than the sum of your parts. If you take the decision to end it all, think about the people in your life who would be the most affected. The void left by your absence will never heal because you would have taken a piece of them with you forever. No matter what you think of yourself, know that there are people out there who are going to miss most, the parts of you that you think are flawed. All your insignificant quirks, flaws and imperfections that make you lovable, inspiring and most importantly human. We live in a world, so stricken with becoming perfect that we forget, we were created to be human;imperfect, chaotic and confusing. Never ever think your precious life isn't worth it, I guarantee that there will be someone will be affected by your loss. Please, for the love of all that is good and bad, reach out if you are in pain and suffering. Depression is a horrifyingly isolating illness, it locks you up in the darkest and most vulnerable corners of your mind, depriving you of love, confidence and your will to fight. So, just if there is someone out there you trust, friends, family, therapists, helplines, heck, even me reach out, please. For the sake of your future self, for what you could become in the future. For the possibility of a life full of love, hang on, please.

May peace be with you Sushant

As for Sushant, well I guess there is nothing much left to say, we can praise his work, the wonderful and down-to-earth personality that we lost to the stars too soon. In the end, it's all just a sad reminder of our futility in stopping his death. His death leaves a scathing reminder, that mental illness doesn't discriminate. Not between the rich, poor, famous, literate or illiterate we all fall prey to it. However, the difference between life and death is how we choose to battle it, in silence or with a support system. You get to decide what you want to do with your life, don't make it one you’ll regret. I’m sorry Sushant, I'm sorry you had to take such a decision to find your peace. I hope now that wherever you are, you are filled with the peace and love that you didn't get, here with us.

Sushant Singh Rajput (1986-2020). Lives on Infinitely through his films and art

#sushant singh rajput #bollywood #rip sushant singh rajput #mental health awareness is so fucking important #please take care of yourselves #we lost such a talented star

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dothewrite · 7 years

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hey! i know you're not feeling well, so take your time. but i was just wondering, what would kuroo do if he had a crush on someone and it turns out she has commitment issues? like, it's a friends to lovers kind of relationship and she starts pushing him away after he confesses his feelings for her and she says that she feels the same way, but can't be with him because of said commitment issues.

Even though I’m not quite sure what this somehow transformed into, it was a wonderful, warm feeling like hot chocolate, writing this. It’s a tad long, but I hope it brings a smile to your face anyhow. :)

They’re a dance, they’re a duet that never blends, only two voices sliding past each other in intermittent aria. It’s awfully cliche, but it starts with hidden blushes and stolen glimpses. The coffee shop is a hidden gem, pristine and untouched by the outside street, keeping itself preserved in a hidden alley about thirty one steps away from the train station. Kuroo has counted before; the most amount of patrons he’s seen in that delicate shop has been a grand total of eight, himself not included. They usually rotate, one filing in after another leaves, a delicate balance between busy and still, the regulars themselves dancing on a delicate thread of busy schedules and reliable routine.

It’s too difficult for him to stick to a routine. Kuroo starts off with Thursdays, his worst days, exhausted from a day filled from top to bottom with concentrated classes, and he trips over that tricky step that leads downstairs into the hidden burrow that is a coffee lover’s haven. He’s grateful for coffee but isn’t exactly a lover of it, per se, as necessity always seems to trump preference. Still, there’s something in there that keeps him coming back for that too-expensive, gourmet espresso.

The staff don’t rotate, he learns. The fantastical latte art and the ridiculous whipped cream monuments are all the expertise of two people, floating from counter to counter each day, unfailingly. Kuroo likes to explain to himself that frequenting a store for their pretty baristas is so common that it’s not possibly embarrassing if he does the same, but really, that thought blows out of his mind the fourth time he sees her hands swirl their delicate movements on the freshly cleaned specials board. He’s never seen such beautiful writing in his life, and after that singular afternoon watching her illustrate with foam, he starts ordering lattes instead.

It’s definitely weird now, he admits to himself with a dry laugh as he turns a page of his textbook. Which page, what chapter he’s on is a mystery to himself, but it stops mattering when it hits week three and he sees the calligraphy he’s been falling in love with fall onto his table. She’s turned her back to him before he can snap his head up to meet her eyes, so he settles instead for her name and number on a coffee stained post-it note.

It’ll haunt his dreams, awake and asleep, the way his voice cracks sharply the time he arrived for their first friend-date. She had laughed throatily at it, rich and fragrant with promise and breathlessness. Kuroo, no matter how shameless and cocky, found himself staring at the cracks in the worn pavement underneath his feet as his cheeks flared up in a burst of red. She didn’t mind, she never minded his quirks. Quiet, and with a soft grin on her pale, underground skin, she waited for his soul to fall back into his body before nudging his shoulder with hers.

It was a wonderfully calm afternoon, and the girl who works at a coffee shop chose to spend their afternoon at the arcade instead, sipping on cheap soda and chewing on brittle chunks of ice left in the empty cup. Kuroo doesn’t mention his unique addiction to anything her hands shape, but he’s careful to tuck away the small notes that she writes down wherever she can.

They swirl differently, when she’s relaxed. They’re thin and stand to attention when it’s for someone else’s eyes, and her only reaction to Kuroo’s confession about the way she loops her ‘y’s and ‘g’s is to flush from her hairline to her toes and slide a small slip of paper into his hands. They’re nothing much, Kuroo unfolds it to find, but each letter is so carefully crafted that it brings him images of a carpentry workshop, or a sculptor’s studio. She’s silent, waiting for his reaction with baited breath and rocking feet, but it doesn’t even cross his mind that there would be anything for her to worry about.

His scrawl in return is nothing to hang on a wall, but he hides a smile when he notices his reply peeking out from her wallet afterwards. He’d never admit it himself, but it had taken all of thirty seconds from his return home to his pinning her note right in the middle of his refrigerator. It might be slightly vain of him to admire the words ‘Kuroo Tetsurou’ in the confident strokes of peerless calligraphy each morning before his orange juice, but he toys with the idea to scan it and add it to his email signature each time.

Two years in, and their dance hits its climax. Months, weeks, hours spent in a wondrous maze of bookstore, to arcade, to park, to rooftop, to empty classroom, they’ve wound and wound into a serpentine of quickening heartbeats and shy smiles. A gentle seat on the bench before the center of the labyrinth, the two of them gaze into what seems to be their destination, or perhaps their ending.

It’s a first kiss of all kisses. His hand on her cheek is trembling, the rise and fall of her chest in staccato, and their kiss is no novel, no poem. It’s barely a song, but all Kuroo needs is a single note, hummed, for as long as his breath can take, and the lean in and press of their lips together in a nose-bumping angle is more than a note. It’s a word, and it’s finally. A hand props her up, and the spare comes up to curl around his collarbone, tentative and cool against his thudding pulse. Their mouths are closed, their lips dry from too much talking and laughing in the crisp autumn air, and he presses closer to her, breathing her in against him in an attempt to quell his desire to pen his own lyrics across her relentless flush. He settles for tilting her head ardently to the left, fitting their mouths together more insistently, more reverently, until the song in his head grows so loud he has to pull back before he finds himself vanishing into verse.

“I’m in love with you,” they voice at the same time, but even though she’s forced to glance away, their grip on each other only tightens. Kuroo, because the possibility of letting her go seems inconceivable in this moment of his life: he knows, that something as ridiculous as this story romance, will never happen again. For her to say it back- no, not back, but together- whatever God up there must have forgotten to pull him back to earth because confessions like this one just doesn’t happen.

“Be with me?” His heart is open in plea, all the thoughts he’d ever had about her painted across his lips, his face, seeping into the depths of his eyes that held only her. There’s no room for him to feel awkward, embarrassed or afraid, because this is it. It’s now or never, and this will be the ultimate step out of his comfort zone, his crowning leap into the abyss that is her answer.

The life he could have with her flashes before his eyes when his mind finally registers her tightly pressed lips and her shadowed glance. Kuroo doesn’t have it in him to step forwards, or reach out to her. “Why?” Is the only thing that falls from him, and it makes him wince with how sincere it sounds.

Her look is quiet, and he waits for her to speak as he keeps his eyes trained on her twisting fingers. “I-I’m not ready,” she stammers.

It’s a bitter, bitter laugh that he swallows, because he knows it’s a lie of a laugh, and because he still doesn’t understand why there seems to be more pain in her eyes than in his chest.

“For what?” He asks, slowly, “a relationship? It can’t be love, you said it too.”

The next few seconds of silence fly by faster than the pump of adrenaline that courses through him.

“…Commitment,” she finally admits with a pained twist of her mouth, “I don’t… have a good track record.”

“Troubles with it, then,” Kuroo murmurs softly. His mind races for all the possible things he can tell her, the statistics, the theory, the prospects, but he falls into a stalemate with all three. He opts to bring his hand to her shoulder and squeeze it gently as an offering. A fresh wave of relief washes through his veins when she doesn’t shy away, she doesn’t even tense, and his fingers tighten just a fraction against his will. “Would you want to talk about it?”

“It’s, it’s a series of long stories,” she barely chuckles. It brushes against her voice box and it spills out coarsely, like an ill-timed clearing of her throat. “Stories, plural.” She leans forwards the slightest inch, and peers up at Kuroo towering over her with his forever height, “is that… something you’d want to listen to? If anything it’d probably put you off.”

“It’s a warm up, then,” Kuroo answers kindly, “kinda hard to be put off something that hasn’t started yet.”

“I suppose,” she laughs again, a second time hitting the required notes for amusement. It’s barely, but it’s enough, and Kuroo soaks it in with natural ease. This is okay, he begins to think, this he can deal with, because it’s real. She’s real, and the more she tells him, the more tangible she’s going to become.

Neither of them quite move from their positions. A tense, tentative balance of muscle, poised and pulling against each other in a defiant declaration of their minds. Their bodies are clamouring towards each other in a permanent ache, but in between their searching gazes a thousand different dialogues pass between them until Kuroo decides to take the first step backwards.

There wasn’t a spell to begin with, only a tapestry of emotions that they had woven around each other from within, so the movement breaks nothing but the stillness of solitary figures against a setting sun. He doesn’t hesitate to thread his fingers through hers, and she doesn’t pull back from the intimate gesture when Kuroo starts to tug them slowly towards their coffee shop.

This Thursday, two years to the day of his first Thursday, he takes a break with her. In a sneaky move of betrayal, he heads home straight from the library instead of towards his potential latte, and she sheepishly burns up one of her paid leave days for an evening in a loveseat, working their way through ham and pineapple pizza.

It’s not a bad couch, Kuroo muses mid-chew, even if damask isn’t his first choice. The size and positioning would be his realm, they had decided together, while patterns and design would be hers. Perhaps not the most traditional choice of sharing responsibilities, but it was terribly difficult to mind while watching her hop around cheerfully between stores, pointing eagerly at the various swathes of fabric. He shifts deeper into the heavy dip that his weight leaves, and arches backwards to drape an arm around her shoulder.

“Don’t you dare wipe your grease on my shirt,” she intones without glancing away from the movie projected on their wall, and Kuroo grins slyly before retracting his hand.

“Time to up my game, I see,” he drawls, “it’s not fun when you know everything I’m gonna do.”

She doesn’t grace him with an answer, but the swift curl of the corner of her lips lays out everything that he needs to know, and his chest constricts again as he watches her.

Painstakingly, he scrubs his fingers with a wet wipe resting conveniently on the coffee table in front of them before running four fingers against the nape of her neck. “Solo tonight?” He whispers softly against her ear.

Her fingers creep onto his right thigh to grasp it in an apologetic squeeze.

“I’d like that,” she says shyly. Kuroo nods, slowly enough that she can feel it against her back, and smiles too, even if she can’t catch it on his cheeks.

Slow and steady, everyone tends to say in the most disappointed tone. Kuroo far prefers to call it ‘one step at a time’, and he can see his ankle touching his toes as he takes another sure step ahead. Somewhere along the stretch of love, speed starts to pale against the brilliance of a bashful confession, or a glowing smile. Everyone has their own pace, this he has always known, but it’s taken another to draw it out of him like water from earth.

If he really has to say it out loud, he’d say that he wouldn’t trade this couch for anything, not if it’s something she chose for their together. Besides, her solo room is quite cluttered enough with bits and bobs of stray essays and carefree scribbles, and Kuroo believes that it just makes their occasional, shared moments waking up in bed, intertwined, just that much sweeter.

#kuroo tetsurou #female original character #sfw #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu #i writes the haikyuu

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bandbacktogether · 5 years

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A Letter I Can't Send: Edge Of Crazy: Lesson #12

New Post has been published on https://www.bandbacktogether.com/posts/abuse-child-grows-up/

A Letter I Can't Send: Edge Of Crazy: Lesson #12

my dad was, and still is, a serious control freak. he wants everything to go his way, all the time, forever. His need to control + my rebellious streak – any display of love or affection = a seriously fucked up child.

dad,

i’d love to write this on my regular blog, but it would upset the people who know me (and we both know that i shouldn’t upset others, right?), so i’m writing it on the down-low. anyway, this is more for me than for you, because you would never admit to fucking up. mom has put up with a lot of shit to stay married to you for 44 years, but i don’t feel sorry for her because we both know she loves to play the martyr. you two are a textbook case of how not to raise a daughter, and i’ll get to mom in another blog. this one’s for you-

i know that you and mom “had” to get married. i know that you weren’t thrilled about it. i also know that you really wanted a son, but you got me instead. while i made do with the john deere tractor and matching wagon, you and i both know i really wanted the barbie corvette. so barbie and her friends went on lots of hayrides, no biggie. because i loved you.

lesson #1- be happy with whatever i get and don’t be disappointed; any affection i may receive depends on this.

we had fun when i was little. we played football with pillows in the trailer that i grew up in, you pretended to be a horse so i could ride on your back. except you always bucked me off, every time. you’d hide in the bathroom down the narrow hall and call to me and when i came to you, you’d jump out of the dark and scare me. i hated that game, and tried to refuse, but mom would insist i go every time. when mom called that dinner was ready, you’d always hold me back and say that i didn’t get to eat. even though i knew it was a game, i didn’t like it. now that i think about it, your sense of humor was somewhat sadistic. but i didn’t see it that way at the time. because i loved you.

lesson #2 – play along, even when i don’t want to.

when i was small, and did something wrong, you whipped me. you had that fucking collection of belts and always made me pick one. i took a long time choosing, hoping you would change your mind, but you never did. i always chose the red, white, and blue one, because if i had to get whipped, it should be with a pretty belt. and it wasn’t just one or two times. no, you beat my ass. and bare legs. and back. and arms.

i stole some of your coin collection to use in the gum ball machine at the trailer court. it was only a couple of wheat pennies and a dime, but you found me at the gum ball machine and my heart got stuck in my throat. you had a wire coat hanger in your right hand and it was summer and i was wearing shorts. you beat me with that wire hanger all the way to the trailer and that was a long way and i couldn’t run fast because i was only 4. and still, i loved you.

and that time you got mad ’cause mom made chili in july. i was still in a highchair, even though i was 3. i dumped my chili onto the metal tray and you swore at me for wasting food. you grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me out of the highchair. my legs got all cut up because you didn’t take the tray off first. then you threw me on the floor of the living room, and that’s how my favorite top got ripped. then you grabbed a belt from your collection and started beating me and you wouldn’t stop. mom finally pulled you away and threw you out. she let you come back, though. because she needed you more than she loved me. i asked mom to fix my top, but she threw it away instead.

lesson #3 – i am bad, and being hurt by someone i love is acceptable. in fact, i should expect it. i need to learn the art of survival, nobody else is going to protect me.

you have never told me you loved me. never. not once. you have never told me you are proud of me. not ever. not when i graduated from college, or grad school, or got straight a’s, or stuck with my crappy marriage for so long, or left said crappy marriage when it was time. i craved your approval like an addict craves that next hit off the pipe, knowing it will never be enough. and i chased after your approval the way a child chases their shadow, knowing that they will never catch it but always hoping against hope that this time might be different. and i never hated you for it. instead, i hated myself for not being enough.

lesson #4 – it’s not you. it’s me. and it will always be me, even when it’s you.

you had a girlfriend on the side, beginning when i was 5, and ending around the time i went away to college. i know this because i rode the bus with her son in high school. he told me all about how you’d come over on christmas day when he was little. i always wondered why you left after we’d opened presents. you were going to your other family. the one with two boys.

remember that time when i was a senior in high school and my friend viki and i saw your truck at your girlfriend’s house? i rang the doorbell and asked your girlfriend if you were there and i told her who i was. after viki and i drove away, we hid in a driveway and watched you speed past us in your truck, racing towards home. and we laughed because we knew you couldn’t touch me. not unless you wanted to tell mom what you were so pissed about.

mom still doesn’t know about that time i called your girlfriend at work and called her a whore and a bitch and demanded that army picture of you back. the one that mom kept asking about and you kept telling her that you’d left it in your locker at work. only it wasn’t in your locker, was it? it was on your girlfriend’s tv, because her son told me. you brought the picture home that night. that’s when you stopped looking me in the eye and started hating me. because you’d been caught by your daughter. and i began to hate you right back.

and when you suddenly decided not to pay for grad school, i became a stripper to pay for it myself. because i had learned the art of survival.

lesson #5 – i have nothing to lose and it feels good to be a bitch.

you stopped hugging me when i turned 10, and i’m pretty sure it had something to do with my going through puberty. especially when you went on a trip and brought me back that cleveland browns sweatshirt, threw it in my general direction while averting your eyes and said, “here, this will cover up your bumps.” nice way to encourage a young girl to have pride in her body. so i started covering up my bumps, all the time. when i was in my late 20’s, i got rid of my bumps altogether by developing anorexia. then i had to cover up my bones. i began to loathe myself.

lesson #6 – my body is sexual, and sexuality is bad.

the only birthday of mine that you ever came to was when i turned 5. i still remember it because that’s the birthday i got my first barbie. you took her away and wouldn’t give her back. you thought that was funny and i played along so you would stay. to this day, i occasionally find myself playing along, for fear of being abandoned or pissing someone off. when i was 17, you never came to my high school graduation. i know this because when i got home after the ceremony, the ticket i’d left for you on the kitchen table was still there. you were still pissed about me finding you at your girlfriend’s two months prior, and calling her at her job. because i’d stopped playing along.

lesson #7 – when i stop playing along, you will hate me.

in high school, you started to have me followed, instead of sitting me down and asking me about what was going on in my life, you got kids from the trailer court to tell you shit about me, a full $5 for each bit of information. that’s how you found out i smoked, drank, got high, and had a black best friend. you even sent two guys on my fucking spring break trip to daytona beach. i know this because on the last night, we all got drunk together and they told me. then they proceeded to tell me your name, my full name, where i lived and what you wanted to know. i wasn’t even safe from you 1,000 miles away.

can i just tell you how fucked up that is? that is seriously fucked up. i was the most paranoid teenager i knew, even without the pot.

you made me stop being friends with kim, you beat my ass when you found out i smoked and you grounded me for three months for drinking. fuck you. i started getting high with my dealer’s 16-year-old wife before school, i went through the bottle of vodka you had hidden in your cupboard, filling it with water instead. that’s right dad, the more you tightened the screws, the more i fucked up. i went to school drunk every day, or high, or both. i hid beers in my bedroom and drank them when you were asleep. i smoked in the bathroom after you and mom left for work. i feared getting caught, but the rush was incredible.

lesson #8 – my father is out to get me, and he will always find me.

you wouldn’t let me date the same guy twice, because you didn’t want me to get pregnant, the way mom did. you wanted me to get an education and be someone. or something. not for my sake, but so that you could say you had a college-educated child. and i was so terrified of getting pregnant that i didn’t had sex until i was 19. and then i slept with every guy i wanted to when i went away to college. because i could, and you had never taught me to respect my body. you had only taught me to get away with whatever i could. i never enjoyed the sex, but being sneaky felt awesome.

lesson #9 – sex is about power and revenge.

when i was in my final year of grad school, i met my future husband, only i didn’t know it at the time. i was smart and i knew about birth control. but when you should have taught me confidence, i learned fear. where self-esteem should have been, there was an empty well, waiting to be filled by someone else’s ideas and beliefs. fear of abandonment took the place of knowing my own worth. standing my ground was replaced by an aching need to please, at any cost. so when my future husband said “no rubbers, please” i said “ok”. because i needed to be loved, and i was afraid of losing him.

lesson #10 – do whatever i have to do make other people happy. my thoughts and feelings don’t count and should be kept to myself. they will only make others stop loving me.

and then i got pregnant. your biggest fear. and because you were my biggest fear, and because i didn’t believe in myself, and because my boyfriend didn’t want a baby and because i didn’t want to be abandoned, i had an abortion. then the self-hatred really kicked in.

lesson #11 – all decisions should be based on fear.

it has taken me 20+ years to undo what you did to me. everyday i untangle a bit more of the knot, trying to smooth out the yarn. it’s still good yarn, and everyday i knit myself.

lesson #12 – you made me stronger, smarter, tougher and braver. so fuck you.

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