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#dont mind me just currently dying
fridayiminlcve · 1 year
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if i dont move to nyc or london or paris by age 27 what is the point of anything
#i looooove my city so much you guys like if i wasnt who i am (queer) rn i would be so fucking glad that i am in my current city but#i loooove art and history and fashion and stuff and this citymight be about second best for all that but its still soo crowded#people WILL judge no matter what you wear something cutesy and people dont shut up especially when ur 16 and tagging along with your mom to#the mall or something and everyone just stares and even among your classmates ive been complimented so many times#for my unique style or whatever (aka i have beaded shoelaces and wear lots of jewelery and absurd ass eyeliner) and theyre like oh#n******** is so fancy itni stylish bandi hai woh and its so attention grabbing but i dont want it to be a big deal !!!#i want to like 20 badges and wear insane makeup and dye my hair without calling much attention to myself!!!#of course i know that will change slowly as you go in to uni and meet ppl of your type instead of a bazaar market and youll pick ur own#friends who r like minded but considering this is india how many people can you truly find.#also my next two years are going to be spent in a college for jee and neet kids#you can wear what you want theres no dress code but you have to appear serious studious and simple if you want to be taken seriously#elle woods at harvard law type#i asked my mom to get an industrial & second lobe piercing and actual dyed hair and shes like turn twenty get into a good college then do#not bc she minds she allowed me to get my hair dyed at age 13 but to go in th college im going to there is SO SO much rigour#and if you dont show yourself as professional and shit they will keep you in lower effort self study classes instead of best of the best#i KNOW how difficult moving abroad is bc my family does not have that money i need to do it myself its so so expensive bc the money#itself has such a high value compared to here (you see americans cribbing abt 30$ hourly wage but here that is 2500inr)#2500 inr is as much as an expensive pair of jeans here. expensive clothes here r 30$ and in usa its 300$ . see the diffence#im changing topics so much but sometimes i do feel this place is suffocating#its a priviledge i have that i can even think about going abroad comapred to other indians but still#dp you get what i mean#and ik movies and all are very romanticised so it might not even be this way in western cities and just an idealisation but still#if things change around here then the entire question of going anywhere is out the window anyway#smalltown boy will byers moment#dni if you read all this and plan on replying unless ur a close mutual (close mutuals u know who u are)#also if someone says why would you want to go to usa uk paris when they colonised your country shut up <3 shut up very much <3
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Thinking about Berserk again. I havent read any of the new chapters because Miura's death kind of got to me really bad so thinking about or talking about berserk at all just made me really depressed and I think I probably havent even looked at it since he passed (after I used to reread huge chunks of it like every week) but now its been like two years and Im thinking I should just accept it and give the new stuff a shot.
One thing I am always thinking about though is how Miura's death effected discussion around Berserk and how much it will continue to effect discussion. Like, I always felt Berserk never got enough criticism. You can search Berserk on here and find all my old posts complaining about how everybody was jumping the gun on calling it One Of The Greatest Manga Ever when it wasnt even done and at the time most people were convinced it hadnt been good since like what, conviction arc? And that was back before Kentaro Miura died and his death has only made the discussion even more like "Berserk is a beautiful wonderful masterpiece and anyone with problems doesnt GET IT".
So like I stopped reading under the idea that no matter what happened it wasnt gonna be what REALLY shouldve happened, now I think thats kind of unfair and maybe I should give it a shot, but I think that idea is gonna be influencing how people talk about a manga that was already being given alot of undue praise and adoration from people who seemed to mostly never have actually read it and had nothing more interesting to say about it beyond it being the manga that popularized the idea of a guy with a big big sword. I dunno.
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deelovesbooks · 4 months
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Just started absolutely ✨ sobbing ✨ at 1am so I'm doing well mentally hbu?
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so theres this 'remake' of this old puzzle game called pipe mania that was made in scratch and ive been playing it on and off since i was in like 6th grade . and recently i managed to get onto the leaderboard (im in the top five hehe) for the first time ever and becuz of that ive been playing it like. constantly. and have been putting a lot more effort into it than before. like i used to just play it to kinda kill time while also feeling like im actually doing smthn, but now im like actively trying to beat my records and using strategies n stuff. and im obviously still having fun but i feel so bad for my friends becuz ive been so fucking annoying about it hshgdhgfhdjs
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moonlitsnail · 2 years
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hm
#personal#called out two days in a row last week which prompted my boss to think i was looking to quit lol#had a convo w/ him on monday where he let me know that he rlly appreciates me being here and wants to give me a raise#i gladly accepted the raise and was hype abt now being paid more so maybe i dont have to keep job hunting#but now this is day 2 of running the air compressor all day and while i was able to tune it out yesterday#it also resulted in mr tuning quite literally everything else out and missing notifications and things said to me and whatnot#i do not have that capability today and bc i cant im forced to sit here with the air compressor running all fucking day#and no joke it is making me so viscerally upset i wanna just quit just walk#debating saying i have a migraine and heading home but also...money...#ive lost too many hrs this pay period and my checks gonna be peanuts unless i stay#but also im like losing my mind bc of this shit and idk how other ppl are managing it#i left for lunch and was hoping itd be done by the time i got back but it isnt and i swear to god if this happens again tomorrow i may just#fucking leave like genuinely i feel so fucking bad and idk what to do#like! ok heres my dilemma: wanted a new job for better pay and less hrs. was given better pay at current job#and will be able to ask for fewer hrs once my boss is back in town.#HOWEVER im still bored out of my fucking mind and also losing it bc of the damn air compressor all day so im like!#i know i just told yall i was happy accepting the promotion and happy to stay but now that the two day honeymoon period has passed#i feel like im dying again#so like?? idk if i should get back to the job hunt or if i should bail or WHAT#im gonna be so fucking exhausted tonight from how tense and close to crying ive been for the last four hrs
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python333 · 7 months
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your writing is literally the best in the cod fandom. we need more injured reader angst. it's too good
don't breathe — python333
— — — —
synopsis [reader] gets buried alive after refusing to give intel to enemy soldiers and *slips up and writes reader almost dying again* oops how did that happen haha
relationships platonic!price & gn!reader.
characters cap. john price.
word count 2.7k
warnings suffocation [reader], just generally really depressing thoughts, near death??, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].
note aww tysm :(( dont say its the best im gonna get a complex LMAO but i appreciate it!! and yes i agree injured reader angst ftw :3 i present to you: reader gets very injured and theres a lot of angst and its basically just you suffering for a good 3/4 of the fic while the last quarter has the actual comfort!
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“Hello?” You try again, your voice cracking and your tone as desperate as it can get, “Please, God, say someone can hear me.” 
You’ve been trapped in a casket for about five minutes now—at least, you woke up five minutes ago. God knows how long you’ve been stuck in the stupid thing, but realistically, it’s probably been much longer than five minutes.
The last thing you remember from before you were buried is being in the interrogation room of some small terrorist group’s facility, one you and the others were led to believe was abandoned weeks ago. 
Unfortunately, whoever gave you the information must’ve either had incredibly outdated information or was setting you all up for failure, because the facility was very much not abandoned and was instead full of enemy soldiers.
You all had already gotten into the building before you knew that, because of course you all had to be in the same spot at the same time—practically sitting ducks for the enemy—and of course you all had to be clueless about the possibly hundreds of people in the facility until it was too late. 
As far as you know, everyone managed to escape. Everyone but you. They didn’t mean to leave you behind, of course they didn’t, they were more focused on just booking it out of the facility. However, because of that, you were now stuck—you assume—several feet underground in a casket that has a limited amount of oxygen that drops every time you take a breath. 
You let out the breath you’re currently holding and suck in another deep breath, holding it as you think. Your strategy of holding your breath until you no longer could mostly worked, but it wouldn’t for long, you knew that soon you’d suffocate in all of the carbon dioxide gathering in the enclosed casket.
You don’t know how long you’d been unconscious in the casket, breathing in oxygen carelessly in your slumber, which made the whole situation worse. You didn’t even know how much time you had left. 
You hate to waste your breath checking your comms, but the enemy soldiers had accidentally left your earpiece in your ear—the small device apparently going undetected under their radar—and you wanted to make the most of it. You move your arm from your side and press onto the PTT button on your earpiece, wincing a little at how cramped the casket was.
“Does anybody copy?” You ask again, staring up at the almost pitch black space above you, “I repeat, does anybody copy?” 
It’s a vain attempt at contacting your team, really. You don’t know if they’re thinking about you, if the signal is going through, if they even have their earpieces on—you know nothing, and that terrifies you because you really don’t want to die right now but there’s literally nothing else you can do besides helplessly talk into your earpiece, not knowing if anyone’s listening. 
Your lungs start to burn and you let out the breath you were holding, taking another deep breath and beginning to hold that one. The air feels… thick. It’s starting to get harder to breathe, and you know you shouldn’t panic but you can’t help the few worried thoughts that come to the forefront of your mind. 
What am I going to do when I run out of oxygen and the only thing left for me to breathe in are my own discarded breaths? What will I do when all there is to do is suffocate? Am I going to try, in one last desperate attempt, to break out of the casket, or am I going to just lay here and die? Will my team try to find me, or will they forget about me? Have they already forgotten about me? 
Before you can listen to any more of those depressing thoughts, a voice comes from your earpiece. 
“H—lo? [c/n]?” It’s hard to tell with the static and the cuts in between the words, but you think it’s Price talking. 
“Price?” You ask immediately, all thoughts of preserving your breath forgotten. “Holy shit, you can hear me?” 
“Je—s— whe—e—” He cuts out for a moment and your stomach drops when all you can hear is static for a moment. 
“You’re— You’re cutting out, Captain, what did you say?” 
“Wher— —re you?” It takes you a moment to realize what he’s saying, your mind working much slower than it usually does, but once you do you shake your head negatively despite him not being there to see you. 
“I don’t— I don’t know,” You respond, taking a deep breath before adding on, “I think I’m underground, I just know I’m in a casket and it’s getting harder to breathe and—” 
“Okay, o—y,” You hear Price’s voice crackle, his voice becoming more distant and sounding almost muffled to you, “Sa— —ur bre—th, I’ll try to g—t some—e to track your— —tion.” 
With the constant cutting out of his words and the distortion of his tone, you can barely register or process what he’s saying, and that only panics you more but you refuse to let your emotions get the better of you even in the state of disorientation you’re in, so you keep holding your breath. 
A minute later, Price’s voice crackles through your earpiece again. 
“Okay, we’ve got your loc—tion,” Price’s voice sounds… oddly far away, “We can—” 
His voice slowly becomes muffled, and you release the breath you were holding without realizing it, slowly blinking up at the ceiling of the casket. A sort of haze falls over your mind and you can barely even hear Price anymore before you suddenly snap back to reality and hear his now much clearer voice loud in your ear. 
“[c/n]? [c/n], are you still there?” You recognize his tone now, and you’re just a little shocked at the sheer amount of worry in it. 
“Haven’t moved an inch,” You breathe out, before lying, “You cut out for a second for me, sorry.” 
“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, “I said we got your loc—tion and we’re hea—g out th— —w. It’s not t— far away from where —e alre—dy are, we’re ba—ely three clicks away.” 
“… Clicks?” You ask, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion.
“Yes, clicks,” Price replies, sounding concerned, before hesitantly asking, “… You know what those are, right?” 
“I don’t—” You struggle to find words for a moment before you speak again, your own voice starting to sound distant, “I don’t think so?”
“What do y—u mean you don’t thi— —o?” Price asks, his voice sounding freakishly close, “Are you okay?” 
“No, yeah, I’m fine,” You lie through your teeth, not wanting to worry Price further, “I just… how far away are you?” 
“Just ab—t two cli—ks now,” Price says, before pausing and clarifying, “Two kilometers.” 
Two kilometers… how far is that? “And that’s… is that far, or?” 
“No, it’s not too far. It’s just a mi—te away, we didn’t ge— —o far before Laswell got your loc—tion,” Price tells you, “We’ll be there soon, ok—y? We’ll get y— —ut of there.” 
“A minute—” You cough and feel tears pricking at your eyes from how hard it is to take another breath, “A minute?” 
“Yes, a minute— [c/n], are you okay?” Price asks again, before laughing nervously, “You know what a minute is, do— —ou?” 
“...” You struggle to answer the question, thinking long and hard for a few seconds before hesitantly answering, “… Yeah, I do, sorry. It’s sixty seconds.” 
“Why’d it take you so long to answer?” 
“I don’t know, I’m sorry, I—” You take a few shallow breaths, and feel a headache start to build up, “How far away are you guys?” 
“We’re alm—t there,” Price promises you, “The heli’s ab—t to l—nd, and we’ll dig you up, and—” 
Why is it so cold? Price’s voice cuts off and when he stops talking you realize that you’re shivering. You ball your fists up and can’t even feel your nails digging into your palms, your hands having gone numb from the cold, and realizing that makes you discover that your lips feel numb too. 
Your ears start to ring and you feel that uncomfortable pins and needles feeling in your hands, the sensation slowly traveling up your arms, making you both wanting to peel off your own skin and also grateful that you can at least feel something besides the cold.
In the midst of your thinking, you hear muffled thumping coming from above you—whoever buried you couldn’t have buried you anything below six feet. 
“—llo? [c/n]? Are you still there?” 
You bring your hand up, the movement slow and sluggish, and you try to search around the side of your face for your earpiece. You eventually find it and when you do you press against it until you feel the PTT button being pushed. 
“Still here,” You confirm breathlessly, coughing again as you take a few more shallow breaths, “I think I’m running out of— of… what’s the fuckin’ air that you can breath in, it starts with an o…” 
“… Oxygen?”
“Oxygen, yeah,” You slowly blink up at the ceiling of the casket, “There’s— I think— I don’t… I think… I think I’m gonna pass out, Captain.” 
“[c/n], don’t you fucking dare,” Price growls, “You stay awake, I swear to fucking god.” 
“I can’t—” You take a few more shallow breaths, before coughing, the tears escaping your eyes reaching the corners of your mouth. 
You can hear Price briefly talk with someone else, his voice the most serious you’ve ever heard it, before he talks directly to you again, “How much longer do you think you have before you run out of oxygen?” 
It takes you a moment to register the question, but when you do, you answer, “Uh… I don’t— I think… maybe a few more minutes? I can’t tell, it’s just hard to breathe, I can’t…” 
“Okay, okay,” Price softly says, gusts of wind blowing into his mic as he talks, “Give me a second, okay? We’re almost there, kid, we’ll— we’ll be there in just a minute, we just passed over you, I just need you to stay awake.” 
“In a minute,” You repeat to yourself, before taking a deep breath, hoping that you have enough oxygen to make it out of this casket because you really don’t want to die here, not when there’s help just a minute away. 
After what you assume is a minute or two, instead of thumping, you hear something cut into the dirt above you. The sound, however, is heavily muffled, so muffled to the point where you don’t know if you’re hallucinating or not.
Is that a symptom of CO2 poisoning? Hallucinations? You lay still in the casket and can’t help but release the breath you’d only just taken, the ringing in your ears starting up again and growing louder faster than they had before. 
Your entire body is numb, your chest is heavy, and you can feel a sort of fog fall over your mind. You can distantly hear Price yelling through your earpiece, but you can’t find it in yourself to respond, instead simply laying there, your blinking starting to slow down before it eventually stops, leaving your eyes closed. 
— 
For a moment, you think you died and went to heaven, which would be weird, considering all the things you’ve done in your life. Not saying you’d go to hell, just saying God would probably hesitate for a second before letting you in through the pearly gates. 
You blink awake, slowly but surely, and the first thing you realize is that you can feel things again. You tilt your head down to the bump under the white bed sheets laid on top of you, and squeeze your hand into a ball, watching the bump move and feeling your fingers dig into your oddly sore palms.
You let out a sigh of relief and pull your hand out from the sheets, bringing it up to your face and feeling the oxygen mask that’s been placed over your mouth and nose.
“Don’t mess with that,” You hear a voice say to your right. You turn your head and see a very tired Captain Price, dark eyebags hanging under his eyes and arms crossed, his hands having a white knuckle grip on either one of his elbows. 
“…” You don’t say anything, instead you simply stare at him until he sighs and gets up from his seat. You watch silently as he leans over your bed and bends down, before pausing, and then quickly snaking his hands under your back to pull you up just enough for him to properly hug you. 
You reach up with shaky hands and tentatively hug him back, not nearly as tightly—not that you don’t want to, but you physically can’t with how weak your arms are right now—but with just as much sincere affection. You can feel Price’s beard rubbing against your neck and hear his small sniffles as he embraces you tightly. 
Maybe it’s his sniffling, or the way you can finally feel warmth for the first time in what feels like forever, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s holding you with so much care and affection that it almost makes you burst at the seams, whatever it is, it causes you to tear up as well. 
Those tears quickly become sobs that bubble up in your throat and crawl their way out of it, forcing you to tuck your head into the crook of Price’s neck and muffle your sobs in it, muttering a small ‘sorry’ after each one. 
After each ‘sorry’, Price responds with, “It’s okay, let it out, sweetheart, you’re okay,” and those reassuring words only make you cry more because God, you didn’t even think he’d find you, yet here he is, letting you cry into his neck and is reassuring you after every apology that it’s okay. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” You mumble a litany of apologies into Price’s neck, your breath stuttering and hitching as you try to hold back your sobs. Price only shushes you and rubs his hand up and down your back in a comforting gesture, bringing his head up to kiss the top of your head. 
He tucks your head under his chin, “Don’t apologize, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 
And fuck, you know it’s just words, but it only makes you cry more. 
Your sobs eventually stop, leaving you hiccuping against Price’s neck, silently crying as he continues to rub your back. 
“I thought you died,” He whispers, his hand stuttering on your back, “I thought you died and I was going to dig up your dead body, when you didn’t answer me.”
You stay silent, letting him continue, “I thought you were dead when we dug you up and needed to feel your heartbeat for myself to confirm that you were still alive.” 
He pauses for a moment before continuing, “I’ve been here ever since they put you in here. I haven’t slept, I’ve just stayed here, waiting for you to wake up so I could tell you that I—”
He chokes up for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I’m sorry for not even thinking to drag you out of the facility with me when we all ran out. You were— you were right there, and I couldn’t just grab your arm and take you with me, I just had to leave you behind and I—” 
“You watched me while I was asleep?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows drawing together. 
Price pauses and pulls his chin off of your head, and pulls you away from his neck so he can properly give you the most incredulous look he can pull, before saying, “I’m pouring my heart out to you and apologizing for practically leaving you for dead, and that’s what you’re worried about?” 
“Well, I’m not worried, I’m just—” You shrug, not knowing how to explain it. Price sighs and chuckles quietly before tucking your head back under his chin. 
“You’re insufferable,” He mumbles, sniffling a bit. 
“… I forgive you, by the way,” You say after a moment of silence, “I didn’t really blame you in the first place.” 
“You had the right to.” 
“Sure I did.” 
“But you didn’t blame me.”
“Right.” “…” Price stays silent for a moment before pressing another soft kiss to the top of your head and saying quietly, “You should blame me.” 
“Maybe,” You mumble back, “But I won’t.” 
Later, maybe an hour later, if the others see you asleep in Price’s arms while he keeps your head tucked under his chin and rubs your back affectionately—no they don’t.
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goldsbitch · 2 months
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I gave so many signs
summary: First unrequited love is not the one to ever leave your mind. Y/N looks back at her missed connection with Charles Leclerc from the time they were just teenagers and regrets having him slip away.
song fic (disclaimer: rights belong to the respectable owners)
exile - Taylor Swift Lie to me - 5 Seconds of Summer (feat. Julia Michaels) Worst of you - Maisie Peters
warning: Present time, the past
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Coming back home to Monaco always brought a sour smile to her face. She loved growing up in this strange small town where everyone knew each other and celebrities came to show off and then went back to wherever, to tell stories of Monte Carlo.
They say that you get to experience three very different real loves in your lifetime - and only if you're lucky, it would be with the same person. Her first love was Charles Leclerc.
I saw you lookin' brand new overnight I caught you lookin' too, but you didn't look twice
Visiting family was the reason why she always came back, but going out with the few girls from high school who stayed there was a treat she dared not to miss. There is just something about hanging out with those people who helped one buy the first eyeshadow and with whom she pregamed at one of their step dad's dermatology office before going on trying to get into any club that would allow minors in. So there she was once again, at the old time spot, having a harder time to hold her alcohol since she'd passed the magic non hangover years. And to her luck, he walked in only a bare half an hour later than her.
Whenever she saw him, even after those years, it was like everyone else had dissapeared from the room. He seemed to age like wine.
It's 3 AM and the moonlight's testing me I know that you've been holding on to someone else And now I can't sleep
"Come here to me," she teased, moving closer to him. He tried to stop her and playfully pushed himself the furthest away possible the couch would allow. "Charlie, let me see!" she insisted and sat on top of him. She had to act quickly, there would be no way for her to keep the upper hand. He was just turning eighteen soon and the time in gym was starting to bring back results. "I do not have any hairline, Y/N," he gasped, annoyed. His tone changed. Back then she interpreted it as just him being done with her shit. Looking at it now, there probably was a different reason why he became more stiff. She sat on him, going through his hair and taking few photos, blissfully unaware. "I'll show this to you in a few years and we'll see! Ha!" Charles eyes were shooting arrows in her direction. She looked back at him, curious and not grasping the moment in the same way as he did. "What?" she asked simply. "Nothing..."
I can see you standing, honey With his arms around your body Laughin', but the joke's not funny at all
She laughed a bit at that memory as she sipped her drink and tried her best to avoid keeping looking back at him as he sat with his current friends and an absolute gorgeous girl laughing at his joke. She knew who she was. Sometimes she peaked at his socials and then blocked him again right away. She certainly knew he had her blocked.
They went to different schools and Charles had his racing activities anyway. So they'd spent a lot of time texting. A lot.
It was just one of the horrifically long school days where she doubted the point of her existence. Life had to be more than sitting in a pointless computer science class. She wanted to be a big lawyer girl boss one day, so why would she ever care about programming. There she was, staring at the assignment from the teacher who was stuck in 20th century anyway, having little to no clue what to do. As she'd usually do, she texted Charles. Bombed him with twenty texts demanding attention, before he finally responded. "OMG i thought someone had died" "i am dying charles" "no your not" "*you're" "i can go back to my race simulator if you keep being a little shit" "nooo, please dont go. you're my only hope. sorry, your. i get it, you got out of the school too early." "that's it, i'm gone" "noo, please stay, I'll be nice and say nice things about you" "i'm staying, go on" "you are absolutely gorgeous" "yes, agree. more" "you are soo funny, amazing, future heart breaker and your passion for racing is so inspiring" "i like this. more"
Second, third, and hundredth chances Balancin' on breaking branches Those eyes add insult to injury
They were inseparable, yet nobody knew. Always meeting alone, because they did not need anyone and their social circles didn't really meet together. Whenever he was back in town, the two of them would hit up their favorite café or hang out at his house and then go for a walk. The two of them walked around Monte Carlo as if they were suppose to be the cartographers creating the first map of that area ever. Those were the good old days that came to end very unexpectedly.
We always walked a very thin line You didn't even hear me out (Didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)
His hands were shaking when he sent the email. But he just could not take it anymore. He was over the moon in love with her and didn't know how to contain it.
"there is no easy way to say this. i love you. sorry. i'm stupid and i know we're just friends. but i basically live only for racing and seeing you. i'm terrified of seeing you with someone else. if there is at least a cell in your body that feels the same, please let's meet up and talk about it. if not, do not reply and i will never mention this again and deal with it. i love you."
She was seventeen when she got his message out of the blue. A scared little girl who was petrified of feelings and anything relationship related. So she never replied to his email.
All this time I never learned to read your mind I couldn't turn things around (I couldn't turn things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (You never gave a warning sign)
Charles had a very little hope that she'd feel the same - why would she, such an amazing person, kind, fun and totally glorified in his eyes, so he could not even imagine him being worthy of her. But what if? What if he was enough? With every day when she did not respond to his email, his heart sank lower. Still, the pain of the first rejection is a hard one to take, because it's usually from a scared unexperienced heart to another and the clumsiness causes great deal of accidental collateral damage one remembers until the end of their life.
You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out
She texted him from school few days after that - a normal text, as if nothing happened. Both of them were too chicken to address the situation openly. So he opted for buring his feeling and she for playing like she had no idea. Deep down, she always knew, even before he emailed her. They texted, continued to meet up. But it was never the same again.
Flashing back to New York City I was done, but you undid me Classic me to run when it feels right
It was hard to get closure for her. After all that had happened and the mess the two made for each other was a hard lesson she remembered vividly. She glanced at your first love again - and finally she met his look, after almost two years of managing to missing each other while they were both back in Monaco. She'd daydreamed about bumping into him, the two chatting and smiling again. The world stopped again for few moments. He shot her an unsure quick half smile that said it all. She knew him too well for that.
And now I wish we never met 'Cause you're too hard to forget While I'm cleaning up your mess I know he's taking off your dress
It was her prom night and she could not be more excited. All her friends were here, family, even Charles managed to get in town to watch her dance and drink all night. She had the night of her life, perfect end to end this chapter of life. The excitement her eyes held was contagious. She spent the first half of her evening with the family and Charles, sharing few dances and laughs. If felt like the good old days. But one shot of tequila led to another and there she was, drunk as pirate and unhinged like a teenage girl. Charles did his best to keep her parents at bay, keep them occupied while he got one of his friends to take care of her. He was worried she might do something stupid, like walk up to the stage and fall down breaking all of her bones. Finally, her parents decided to leave without having to saying goodbye to her after Charles spent a good half an hour convincing them she was just in the back stage and that he'd get her home safe. When they were gone, he began to search for her, only to finally find her sitting on the stairs, making out with the friend he assigned to keep an eye on her.
So take me to every party and just talk to your friends Why don't you let me down, I'll let you do it again Go on and walk all over me, just don't walk away Give me the worst of you 'Cause I want you anyway
It was like being cut open alive and having people watch. There was nothing even remotely graceful about her actions, she was literally sitting on the floor having a battle of tongues with another drunk teenager while people had to walk pass her. It was embarrassing. Charles didn't know what to do. He wanted to run away and never come back, but he couldn't leave her there alone. He couldn't bring himself to stop the two of his friends, because he was just too sad and heartbroken to do so. He just stayed nearby and kept an eye on them. It was one of the longest nights in his life.
She couldn't remember the second half of her prom night and Charles would never speak of it, even though she begged him many times. He always became stiff and started to leave the room. She only kept asking, because it marked one of the biggest shifts in their friendships. He became cold, unresponsive and after few weeks, he stopped communicating completely.
You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out I think I've seen this film before
Funny how people's faces change with years, but the eyes stay the same. The eyes and the look. Charles looked at her the second time this evening. It was like staring back at the eighteen year old boy who was drowning in his feeling.
It was one of her last nights in Monaco before leaving for university. Finally, her dreams were coming true. She was more than ready to get our to show the world she was a force to be reckoned with. She sent Charles countless messages before her final departure, at that moment, she was sure she'll never ever get back to Monaco and wanted to at least understand why he became distant. One evening, he finally agreed to meet up and talk. She was over the moon. Knowing that she could always turn Charles over, she left feeling confident - he was one the very few people she was sure shared the same soul as her. It was as if they'd never stopped talking. Jokes flying everywhere, the two of them strolling around, having no idea this would be the last time (and maybe, that was better for her at the time). There was so much to share, the two kept talking over each other for hours. Charles was happy when she finally stopped to take a breath for a moment. She looked him in the eye and saw a look she'd seen countless of times on his face. There was a shift in her mind and out of nowhere, she was kissing the boy she'd been unknowingly in love for years. She'd realize that she loved him only once she started dating a random guy from her college, expecting the same feeling Charles gave her. But it never came. Had she known, she'd have stayed with him. He tried to convince her to start dating him. Almost begged her to try it with him long distance. But there was a whole world for you to discover, places to be and versions of her that needed discovering. She had kissed only once. But it was a kiss of a lifetime. He blocked her on all socials after she rejected him again.
I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind) I couldn't turn things around (You never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) So many signs, so many signs You didn't even see the signs
The girls were laughing at some joke she missed while digging in her memory for traces of her first love. Charles Leclerc. He was sitting few tables away from her. This time, her heart sank as he kissed his girlfriend on the cheek as they walked away from the bar. She wanted to run to him, to talk to him again after all those years. To tell him the same thing he once emailed her. To explain that she was just too young to notice she had the love of her life right next to you. But she knew all too well what his answer would be. And just like he had back then, she never wanted to hear it out loud.
And I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me
part 2
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drawnfamiliarfaces · 4 months
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If Chase Yuong and the First Ninja start a fight, who will win in your opinion? Either way, it's going to be epic.
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anon ANON thank you. I've been dying to think more about those two in the same context, ever since i realized the similarities of these two idiots i like (greenish hair? martial artist? magical? kinda lived long???) But i've shoved those crossover-ish ideas away since i am busy with other stuff lol. but this gives me an excuse >;)
Ok, if we do NOT take canons in consideration (because lets be truthful, cartoons rarely can give a full scope of a character to our satisfactions lol) so I have 2-3 vague scenarios in which they clash (IMO either of them can win??? (because i like them both, even if i am more of First fan, so I cant decide who of them winning would be more entertaining lol)):
If First Ninja in his prime (sometime after imprisoning Sorcerer but before the Ultimate Lesson) clashed with 700 yo Chase Young (since this fucker is canonically 1500 yo) who would probably try to defeat First in order to make him part of his Jungle Cats harem:
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Chase is ridiculously, stupidly overpowered but one could argue that at 700 he hasn't yet reached the height of all his powers, so First would certainly have a fighting chance. First is supposedly uniquely trained since (probably) his birth by his Ninja Clan and continuous battles with the Sorcerer (and most likely other creatures, like Sorceress and Tengu and etc.) throughout his teenage-young adult life to take on enemies like Chase - overpowered magical beings/soulless monsters - with the help of Ninja Mask and all its powers.
Admittingly, in this case the win will most likely go to Chase, if only because of his experience and overwhelming array of powers at his disposal. Though considering we do not know the full scope of Ninja Mask's powers, First has like maybe 15-25% chance to win (and at least 30-45% in my mind if i consider my own hc about the mask lol), but not 0%.
If First Ninja's 800 yo. spirit somehow was released from/embodied by Ninjanomicon to clash with 1500 yo Chase Young in the Modern Present:
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Here a lot of my hc come in play. I fully believe that if First - with all the developed abilities, experiences, memories, power (and possibly spirits) acquired during his stay/merge within the Ninjanomicon and from over like 200 people who ever used the mask over 800 years - fought 1500 yo Chase - who spent at least a century or 2 or 3?? hidden away in his Fortress, growing just a bit complacent, since he clearly became too strong and thus bored of the world when it couldn't offer him decent opponents anymore, at least not until current Monks - the fight could go either way.
Chase is still stupidly OP, but its clear that he was deprived of good opponents for a loooooong time, since he resorted to fight against/taunt teenagers and Omi, who is basically a kid still. And they frequently managed to outmanoeuvre him in their confrontations, if not in an actual hand-to-hand fight then at least in common sense lol.
Meanwhile First trained and learned with his each of his successors years in and out, and while we dont know exactly what sort of things happened, we can say for sure that the fighting was continuous. Ninja barely had any rest, for the Sorcerer probably attracted chaos inclined allies and minions and thus a never ending stream of enemies for Ninja to battle.
If basic bitches clash aka OG Good Chase and First Ninja before he was First Ninja:
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This is just for fun and because I fully believe that pre-Ninja Mask First will trounce Good Chase. xD
We do not know Chase's past, and there are various headcanons on how he came to be a Xiaolin Monk, but let's just say that judging by his apperance and XS voice, he is probably a very young adult-ish before he drunk his Soup, so he most likely was a Monk since at least his pre-teen/teen years. He appears to be insecure in his Monk-ness and in his abilities to become the greatest warrior despite his competence, since he was swayed/manipulated/convinced? to sell his soul to a demon for more power and freedom from Monk values.
If we judge First's appearance and voice, he would be perhaps a slight bit older than Chase when he became The Ninja, and not to mention since he was born into the Ninja Clan, he was likely trained since he was very young. His personality appears to be very studious and there is certainly a great deal of strength in his character since he not only managed to continue on with his duty even after loosing his brothers but also not succumbing to the overwhelming Power of the Mask that can corrupt those of weak belief and hold the title of the Ninja longer than anyone else.
(Not to mention I am of very biased opinion that Ninjas are cooler than Monks. lol. Also we can assume they all have magic of some sort. Like think Naruto like Ninjas and Xiaolin Elemental Dragons/Monks.)
ALSO in case 1, obviously if they fought with the agreement that if Chase wins he would ABSOLUTELY add First into his Jungle Cat harem. First will most likely add/request a stipulation that Ninja Mask was not taken with First and I can see Chase honoring that agreement, so the Ninja legacy will continue on and Chase still gets an incredible warrior to his ranks, and perhaps more warriors if the future ex-Ninjas would decide to try and fight him later on. ;)
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(first's animal form would be either a leopard or iriomote cat (both native to Japan) or a crow because tengu connection/associations ;D )
And if First wins, he certainly would figure out how to contain Chase, (perhaps even in the Ninjanomicon itself hohoho) since he somehow managed to contain a sorcerer that controls chaos with some binding, magic from a mythical beast and in a deep hole that perhaps connected to some dark realm, like??
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;)
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pinkswaet · 4 months
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Click here to read part 2 sweethearts!
Midnight 🧡 (Part 3)
Summary: lando found out about everything yet he stayed silent
Warnings: angst, little bit sadness
“Okay great, I’ll come tomorrow at 7pm for the abortion”
Lando froze when he overheard you from the stairs. His mind went blank. He couldn’t believe that you’re gonna do this. He stayed there for a while until you hung up the call. “Hey, good morning my love” lando said as he hugged you from behind. “Oh hey, good morning” you said, smiling at him. He then kissed your forehead and then kissed your stomach. His heart ached when he remembered that youre gonna drop the baby. “I love you” he said as he snuggled his nose in your neck. “Mm i love you too” you said, brushing his hair with your fingers.
The whole day went well. You and lando went out for dinner, went to meet his parents, watched a movie together. You loved every little moment with him. It was so sweet and loving. Sometimes you feel like you dont deserve him. Because he’s so perfect. In every way, he’s perfect. But you on the other hand is a person who’s flawed in every way possible.
How can a person who’s so flawed be loved by a person who’s so perfect?
“Thank you” you said, softly as you saw lando kneel in front of you to take your shoes off. “For what baby?” He asked looking up at you. “For everything” you said, smiling at him. His eyes were soft, it looked like his eyes formed hearts. “You always do so much for me. I love you” you said, whispering those words. Lando then held your hands and kissed it. “I love you more” he said, looking up at you with love filled in his eyes. Yet it had sorrow in it. You broke his heart and you dont even know about it. You loved him a lot but he loved you more. Always.
But maybe it wasn’t enough for you to keep the baby.
The next day started quite nicely. Lando made you breakfast and it was surprisingly really good. Currently you two were watching tv, cuddling each other. Lando twirled his fingers in your hair as you rested your head on his chest. “Do you feel like going out tonight baby?” Lando asked, still looking at the tv. “Remember your parents invited us for dinner?” He asked. He just wanted you to stay. He wanted you to cancel your shitty appointment. “Remember?” He asked again.
Of course you forgot. Fucking shit.
You then got up and looked at him. “I uh.. remember my friend emma?” You asked, awkwardly. “Yeah what about her love?” He asked, sounding confused. “Well we decided to hangout tonight. I forgot to tell you earlier lando, im sorry” you said, sounding guilty because you hated that you had to lie to him. You never lied about anything but now you had to.
He knew exactly where you're gonna go. Yet, he didn’t say anything about it.
"Oh okay, I’ll tell your parents” he said, smiling at you. But that smile wasn’t real. He was dying inside. His jaw clenched a little but pretended like its nothing. You then got up and went to get changed and lando just sat there, feeling empty. Feeling worthless.
Did lando not love you enough? Could he never make you feel special? Was he so bad that you dont want to keep his baby?
“Have fun and take care of yourself love” he said as he caressed your cheek. “If you need anything just call me, I’ll come” he said, looking down at you softly. You wrapped your arms around his waist and looked up at him smiling but the smile on your face was pretty fake because you lied to him. “Okay, dont worry about me” you said, brushing his soft curly hair with your fingers. Lando then gave you a kiss, which was so gentle and soft. He then kneeled down and kissed your stomach. Knowing that this is going to be the last time he kisses his baby. So he kissed your stomach one last time. One last time.
A/N: requests are open! feel free to ask what you want me to write! luv you ❤️
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arwenadreamer · 1 month
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Why I love the SPN finale so much
There are exactly 4 possible ways the show could have ended for our boys.
a) Both Sam and Dean live
b) Both Winchesters die together
c) Sam dies
d) Dean dies
So why do I think d) was the best possible outcome? Lets have a look at the different scenarios.
a) Both Sam and Dean live
While it would have been nice, I dont think it would have really concluded the show. "There will be peace when you are done." Well, on earth they would never have been truly done. There would always have been another horror lurking just around the corner, even if it was just a Monster of the Week. To find true peace, I think the boys had to enter heaven. And we actually had a bit of the they were done and lived happily on earth scenario in that domestic life openening of the finale. For the boys to live would just have meant more of the same, seasoned with hurts and horrors and a sprinkle of pain on top.
b) Both Winchesters die together
I wouldn't have minded that. It sure would have made for a tragic ending. In fact, that was what I kind of was hoping for, at least I imagined that this would be how the finale would go. Both boys going down swinging, blaze of glory style, preferably dying hand in hand, saying something like "Good night Sammy" or "See you on the other side, Dean". But in retrospect I see that this would have robbed us of their 7 Minute good bye scene. Of all the things Dean needed to say to Sam because he was saying good bye for quite a while. Of Sam being devastated and breaking down with his dead brother in his arms. There would have been no need for love confessions and "I must have stood outside your dorm for hours" and "When it came down to it it has always been you ... and me". Because they just could have picked up their normal conversation on the other side.
c) Sam dies
Dean would have comitted suicide right after burning Sams corpse. Jensen said so, and regarding Deans feelings and intentions, Jensens words are as good as canon to me.
I wouldnt have minded the tragedy of that, but in that case it really would have had an undertone of suicide ideation, which enough people scream about Dean's death as it is. (And which it really, really wasnt!)
c) Dean dies
Did I cry my eyes out? Yes. But the show I love is a drama show. Otherwise I`d choose a feelgood comedy show.
I wouldnt have minded for Sam to follow Dean soon after, to be honest. Maybe by being extra careless on hunts. But in keeping fighting, living through the grieve and pain day by day and coming out strong enough on the other side to actually have a kid and give him a stable, loving home, the message of the finale was actually so powerful. Opposite of glorifying suicide, it said "hold on, stay strong, there is a light at the end of all this trauma and horror and darkness you currently walk through".
The best part about the finale is, though, that it did not end there. Supernatural DID. NOT. END. WITH. DEAN'S. DEATH!!!
SUPERNATURAL ENDED ON A BRIDGE!!!!
I would have hated it, if the end of the show would have been the brothers seperated. But they weren`t. The show literally ended with the boys arm in arm, looking out over a peaceful valley in a heaven better than the one they knew from before.
There was peace and they were done. Together.
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okay so normally when i make informative posts about current news, i try to always link a source for it (i tend to rely on the guardian) or at least explain the source of it.
but i dont know if the government are planning to publicise this or quietly implement it so im hesitant to give details on where i got this info. im just gonna say it was from someone/s who works in the department of work and pensions, and hope that my prior post history speaks well enough of me for you to trust that this isnt misinformation.
i dont like doing this but i think this information is too important for me not to share it and said info is fucking disgusting.
starting in march, in the uk, if you ask at the job centre for a voucher for a local foodbank, you are going to be turned away.
under the current system, if you go to a job centre that has a food bank referral service, the staff will fill in a slip (theyre advised not to call it a voucher but tomayto tomarto you know?) and refer you to a local charity which will allocate you food according to the slip.
that ends on march 1st. after that, they will just hopefully signpost you to other services that can help you get an emergency food parcel. that will likely involve you having to travel somewhere, potentially on a public transport, costing you more money that you dont have. and that does not guarantee that you will get the food you need either that day or at all.
our government does not care about its citizens, but especially not about us who are poor. they see the working class, the impoverished and the homeless as subhumans. they see us as what new right sociologist and white nationalist libertarian charles murray coined the underclass.
and you know this because of how the current system will be working from now until the end of february because if youre gonna stab someone while theyre bleeding to death, you might as well double tap it, ay?
from now until february 29th, you now must have an interview so that they can be "sure" that you need that food.
bear in mind that this does not cost the government anything. they are not losing money because of this service, if you want to call it that.
and that interview? that could take up to 3 days; its whenever they have a timeslot within 3 days of your asking. you could go in and say "i have no money and i have no food, i havent eaten for days, please help," and they could tell you to come back in three days, and then not even give you that slip of paper anyway.
this could kill someone. yes, it takes longer than three days to starve to death, but if someone is struggling that much to need help acquiring food, theyre gonna have more problems going on. people might choose food over heating and freeze to death; they might decide to eat food thats gone off and end up dying from it because they couldnt call 999 because they didnt have electricity; they might decide to try and injure themselves so bad that they have an extended stay in hospital as a way to get food and die in the process; they might not have eaten in weeks and starve to death.
but hey, if you do pass the interview process, youll get the referral you needed up to three days ago and a discussion about how better to manage your finances, because hey, youve already stabbed the stabbed person two more times, why not twist the fucking knife?
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liquidstar · 13 days
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ok alien stage fans dont hate me for what im about to say im just throwing the IDEA out there okay. but just listen
you know how we have these two promo images of ivan and till?
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("observation" and "decision" by vivinos)
paralleling their young selves and their current selves. young ivan sits with till and happily watches him sing, older ivan stares more seriously at till as they're about to enter the contest, having just made some sort of decision (we don't know what exactly that means yet. to lose? to not compete? to tie? to... win? given his convo with sua that might be the "nicer" option in his mind)
and now the promo art for round 6 dropped, "cure"
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its OBVIOUSLY playing on paralleling these shots again. this time it seems to be after till got punished and is asleep or unconscious (or maybe he just has his eyes closed, but i dont think hes awake- he's not the type to be so chill about the face touching)
what if... its also meant to parallel a "future" shot? just like the previous two?
if till ends up dying this round (SAD!) we could end up seeing the second half of it. with ivan's hand on till's corpse. but this is pure conjecture, not super likely. im just saying is all.
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akutails · 2 years
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CONFESSING TO THEIR CRUSH. - dazai osamu & edogawa ranpo
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✁dazai & ranpo and their silly attempts to confess their love for u <3 repost from @[yatsugareboyf]
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┊❛ dazai osamu ❜┊
he flirts all the damn time
so you never know if he’s gonna take u seriously bcs w EVERY WOMAN THAT COMES IN THE DOOR HES LIKE
“my belladonna, do you want to accompany me in the world’s most beautiful double suicide?”
yeah. no
when he has a crush, he really wants to act like it doesn’t bother him or he acts like he’s smitten with any other woman
BUT HE’S NOT- he’s whipped and he doesn’t know how to contain it
visibly tries to flirt w other women while ur there (not to get u jealous but so he can get his mind off of the fact that you’re right there)
don’t get me wrong he flirts with you too and it annoys the fuck out of kunikida
“y/n! you’re back! i’m sure you’re tired, lovely, so let’s go sleep together forever-”
“dazai u fucking menace-”
i feel like he doesn’t do the “big event confession thing” it's more of a gradual thing?
he’ll definitely ask u out on a date, but makes it seem like it's just any other day type of date so u agree
but he invites you to so many more dates
which makes u go like “are these dates dates or just friend dates?”
then he smiles “what do you want them to be, hm?”
“huh?” you reply, squinting at dazai, who’s currently seated in front of you at a small cafe you both frequent.
“well,” he starts, taking your hand and placing it on top of his while the other runs its thumb across your knuckles, and you think it’s another stupid invitation at a double suicide, “i’ve been asking you on dates and you’ve been agreeing, so i guess these are dates?”
he’s been asking you out to dates? was this his plan all along? to make you feel like you’re the one who needs to confess to him when really he’s dying to confess to you but doesn’t want to be the first to talk in fear of rejection?
or maybe he just wants to poke fun at you for liking him back.
“i… i guess they are.”
“we’re dating! you’re so sneaky, my love, not knowing we’re dating even if you were the one to agree to it.”
“i thought it was a friend date!”
┊❛ edogawa ranpo ❜┊
there’s only two ways i see ranpo acting when he has a crush
one, he’s overly proud and boasting of his charms when his crush is around and is isnt against showing off for their approval
two, he’s embarrassed and flustered and cant even show off even if he wants to because he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you. he’s quiet and weirdly normal
either way, he doesn’t want to be the one who confesses. sorry man he can’t do it
well, not that he can’t do it, he just doesn’t want to
why would HE have to confess his love when YOU can do it? i mean, he is the greatest detective of all time, who wouldn’t have a crush on him?
if u do like him, then u must be damn good at hiding it because he doesn’t know
or he doesn’t want to know, because he’s scared of knowing the truth (that maybe u just dont like him like that yknow?)
so he just stares at you when he can, but when u look at his direction and ask him what’s wrong, he pretends to be lost in thought and only coincidentally faced your way 😭🙏
he’ll be very frustrated tho, because he wants to talk to u and say that ure cute and he wants you to say that hes cute and idk
hold ur hand?? let him sit on ur lap?? all those stuff
he can’t do that when u think he’s just a friend :((
so he just does it in the most subtle way he can
“y/n!”
you look over to ranpo, whos gesturing you to sit beside him at his desk.
“hm? what is it?”
he opens up a drawer that holds all of his candy bars and sweets that have varying colors in neon and pastel, pulling out a few of them then closing it shut. he lays them in front of you then returns to his video game.
“those are for you.”
you were hesitant to receive the candy bars, but you saw the packaging and smiled. they were sweethearts and chocolate bars.
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╰─▸ ❝ @[akutails]'s work is not open to reposts, plagiarism, and the likes. (09/22/22). taglist: @sips-tea-cutely, @njisano, @atsucafe.
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papersirens · 6 months
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i really really hate to be doing this but things have been really bad all week and im running out of options lmao i understand people have their own issues and medical bills and im nothing special but im gonna put like idk my issues under a readmore for context of why im basically begging not to guilt but idk for context maybe?? anyway
i have a patreon and prices are going to go up in october so now's a great time to subscribe. there's 2 fics a week, 1 jjk 1 jjba plus 4 requests of varying characters from franchises. on top of that the second highest tier offers every fic available which is around 102 fics total for only like $10 you can also see what fics are available in the masterlist. there's only 1 jjk currently but more to come. patreon // masterlist
i also have halloween commissions still open. 1k words for $10 of any fic with any jjk or jjba char of your choice. bunch of batch spaces since im practically caught up with the commissions and they will be sent to you within a week. halloween commissions info // masterlist
i do have regular commissions open too if anyone is interested but there's currently a waitlist. the current eta for new people is around end of november if you dont mind waiting but you'll have a bigger wc range. commissions info
if none of these interest you i have ko-fi and buymeacoffee. i can do direct paypal but you'd have to dm me about that but you're probably better off just going through the ko-fi link tbh. buymeacoffee can do direct bank transfer for those who have paypal issues and also is an option for commission payments just pls dm me beforehand about it. i'd also rather you commission me or buy patreon but ik some people are happy to just give tips so they are also options. ko-fi // buymeacoffee
im forever grateful for any help and support people can give. like i say i know people have their own struggles and health issues and i am not special but things have been bad enough for me to have to make a post like this. liking, reblogging my fics is still support i appreciate along with reblogging and boosting this post or doing one of the options mentioned. i appreciate u all <3
the juicy part everyone wants lmao gonna keep it brief and not give anyone a super sob story because theres people dying kim but
i suffer from plaque psoriasis, don't look it up it's nasty especially if you're queezy lmao i had it somewhat bad from the age of 13 until i was 24/25 all over my arms and a little on my legs but just dealt with it until i finally was able to get treatment back in the uk. it cleared up entirely and i was put on injections a year before moving to japan. these injections are pretty serious im not sure the name but theyre bio something i am not a doctor they just clear my skin gjkf ANYWAY so moved to japan last august and i was clear up until january/february this year where it came back and hit me like a train. i couldnt see a doctor due to insurance until april/may so for months i was forced to wrap myself in saran wrap because i was in agony otherwise, i couldnt bend my arms and sleeping was a nightmare even if i was fully clothed becausee my whole body was irritated. got to see a doctor and he put me on cyclosporine which ive been on before.
anyone who knows that medication knows you cant be on it for very long. when i was on it before i was on it for a year before my injections because it isn't a long term fix and long term usage can damage your kidneys iirc. 3 months into taking my meds my bloods were coming back bad and he wanted me off them and onto my injections. i am now struggling to pay for my injections even on insurance. my insurance caps at 50k yen a month and i gotta take two injections a month which cost 35k yen each, so the cap still helps but 50k yen ($340/£275) is still a lot and basically my rent every month lmao majority of income comes from my husband who works as much as he can as an english teacher.
but melk, why don't you get a job if writing fanfic can't cover your meds?
great question uh i have very severe social anxiety lmao online im for the most part ok but i can't even go out for walks by myself. great example is i tried to just go to the arcade the other day, something ive only done once before and because i wasn't feeling great and wanted to take myself out to just get a soda and look at what they have. halfway there i had a severe panic attack and sat in a dark in the dark during a storm before managing to run home and throw myself into a cold shower because i was alone and scared lmao as can be expected i cant buy anything from a store by myself, my husband buys things for me or comes with me whenever i go anywhere which is a strain on him along with being the bread maker.
im also unmedicated in terms of my anxiety because i cant afford that either lmao so i am truly raw dogging my daily anxiety and social anxiety while trying to handle everything else. i dont have a therapist i dont have medication just free online resources and a handful of super understanding and supportive friends but that's still not enough to help me in getting a job. im still looking semi-regularly for remote jobs that involve few phone calls and only emails but from my experience either i need to be in the country (typically US or UK) and/or emails and live chats are secondary to the phone calls being main job. believe it or not, phone calls are worse for me than speaking to people face to face lmao.
the icing on the cake of all this is i dont have family to fall back on, i havent spoken to anyone in my family including my parents in 5 years now and any help we do get is from my husbands family and they also helped us even get to japan so its incredibly unfair to be constantly leaning on them.
i dont think this post or anything will help and fix all my issues, but with how severe things have been its the only thing i can think to do to help while we attempt to organise ourselves and figure out ways to cut back our money further and make more side hustles.
yeah sorry anyway melk lore enjoy that like i said i appreciate anyone and everyone who supports me in any way they do and thanks for reading <3
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oxygenbefore1775 · 1 year
Text
teaching you how to play guitar
❧pairing: jean x afab!scout!reader
❧tags: smut (minors/ageless blogs dni), mid-timeskip
❧cw: fingering, one (1) petname used, overstim, weird as shit guitar imagery
❧wc: 1,4k
❧summary: while out on deployment you asked jean to teach you how to play a guitar
❧a/n: my first dab into the full-on smut; that's what the poll was about; posting it *unconspicuously* in honor of jeans bd; thanx to /hangeslefteye and /pisspope for fueling the shitshow that was my brain while writing this (not tagging directly cuz i dont wanna bother you to much)
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"Do you mind teaching me how to play?" 
You finally collected enough courage to come up to him for the first time as your squadron was settling down for the night. Jean Kirstein — elite and revered member of the Survey Corps — took his eyes off the singing strings to meet yours. His quick with movements fingers though kept on fiddling, with precise pinches and harsh strokes to the cords eliciting a lively tune out of otherwise stiff metal. Truly fascinating you found this, alluring even, that his fingers were capable of creating such a lovely thing.
Service had become luck-luster and boring as of late with all the titans eradicated and Survey Corps having nothing better to do other than to sit around on the coast waylaying the currently non-existing Marleyan ships, as you explained to Jean. Then might as well entertain yourself and put the hours into a skill that you'd actually enjoy, you mused.
He agreed surprisingly easy. Amber of his eyes shimmering from the flames of the dying campfire as he suggested you two should meet after the lights-out in his tent. It was bigger than yours anyway and his only tentmate Connie was on the watch duty that night so you could have all the place to yourselves.
At that time you thought that the glint in his eyes was all anticipation at the sight of a near practice session, seeing as Jean found guilty pleasure in patronizing. That smile he gave you as you both parted your ways quickly morphed into an amorous smirk when you weren't looking anymore.
Who'd have thunk that it'd end up with you sprawled on the tarpaulin, mind fuzzy and body sheening with sweat, as Jean kept on spearing your sopping cunt with his fingers.
You'd give him that, he at least had a decency to actually start off with teaching you. Positioning himself behind you on the floor as you were holding a guitar, his arms going over yours to guide your movements. You were such a diligent student. Your eyes following each motion of his fingers in an attempt to recreate it afterwards, asking him to go through each chord step-by-step slowly this time and turning your pretty face to him in search of approval each time you got the sound right.
It wasn't like Jean wasn't enjoying teaching you. Just that his thoughts weren't exclusively dedicated to the process. Blame it on the pretty much non-existent distance between your ass and his crotch, your giddy with excitement wriggles coiling him even further. Jean nearly hissed at the feeling of his cock growing hard and heavy against the groove of your ass. The Scout uniform was already damningly form-hugging but now with the arousal taking form there surely wasn't a way for you to not notice it.
And notice it you did. Fucking hell. You couldn't help but to feel pleased with yourself. It's not every day that you get a chance to fuck Jean Kirstein. You leaned against him even more, trying to feel upon the outline of his cock.
Maybe you might've actually learned something about playing guitar this night. Too bad your body was pressing against his a little too hard for Jean's composure to last more than a few minutes before finally snapping. His mind giving way to the intrusive thoughts of your image he succumbed to the urge of planting hot wet kisses down your neck. Caught up by surprise you shuddered with pleasure each time his lips crushed into your supple skin, his mouth burning hot and greedy. Yet another avid caress captivating your lips, you felt Jean's hands pry the guitar away from your grasp and putting it aside as he intended on having you only to himself this night.
"Jean!" you gasped almost jerking at his mere touch to your core once he finally had you bare beneath him, "Your fingers, they're too rough"
The curve of his lips gained a feigned sympathetic expression as he brought his fingertips to his mouth to wet them.
"That's how it's gonna be though," he sweetened your sudden discontent with his tongue licking away at your entrance, "Playing the strings got my pads all rough. But these fingers are meant to last so by the time I'm done with you'll be numb with pleasure"
As you'd come to know very shortly he wasn't the one to be throwing promises around.
His touch remained just as rough. The callouses on his fingertips bullying your sensitive flesh to no end. The whimpers and mewls falling past the brim of your bitten lips Jean drank up with such poise and pleasure as if he wasn't the one to cause them with every drag of his digits against your gummy walls. The solace you found in seeing scarlet stripes your nails left on his shoulders was although sweet yet not enough to forget about your discomfort. All you were left to do is to writhe and whine in a futile attempt to escape his merciless caresses.
But the way he was putting his fingers to use — good grief. As if possessing a hidden knowledge of your body all this time, Jean knew the exact points to hit to make you a squirming mess under his touch. Avid precision to his strokes, he never missed that sweet spot, the pressure he applied just right for your pleasure to get at its peak.
"Now, is that what gets you going sweet thing?" He'd coo at you each time he brought your features to a new stage of twisted pleasure, "Keep those pretty eyes open for me, would you?"
Bliss and pain mixing together in a ontradictory concoction, you felt as if your body would soon shut down.
The first time you came on his fingers, it was unexpected. Orgasm creeping up behind the waves pain and crushing over you in shudders. Ever so gracious, Jean helped you ride out your high, his body towering over yours and his lips covering your contorted face in quick pecks as he indulges you into another kiss.
"Jean," you carded your clammy fingers aimlessly through his hair, trying to get your fleeing mind some sort of purchase, "That was so good"
"I know," through the squint of your eyes you can see him smirk down at you, beaming with benevolence, "Boring life of a Scout, my ass. Just come to my tent every now and then and see how quickly you'd forget your complaints"
Your orgasm leaving you still so sensitive, you quickly noticed how his fingers returned to rubbing circles round your bud of nerves. Your clit still angry and puffy, it hurt so much each time his rough fingerpads did so much as brushed up slightly against your core.
With an intruding kiss he shushed your huffs of protest, "Oh, sweet thing I'm not done with you yet. Haven't you heard me the first time?" his hot breath searing the shell of your ear. "You'll be numb with pleasure"
The man of his word, he kept you up in the tent for almost all night drawing orgasm after orgasm out of your feeble body. Prying you open and discovering the new layers of bliss in you you've never even known of before.
How beautiful he was looking down at you, lulling your distress away with his attentive touch and caress. Like a string of his guitar he had you pinned down, left at the mercy of his never-resting fingers. Impeccable strokes succumbing your body to his will, whimpers and moans chording a sweet melody to his ears.
And just as promised, your mind was a haze, your flesh a putty under his touch by the end of the night. It seemed as your body had no bones, so pliable for him. As he held your trembling form close to his chest he kissed away the salt from your cheeks — the only remnants of your former soreness on your otherwise painted with bliss features.
"Such a sweet thing for me," you smiled lazily at his words, "Coming undone on my fingers like that. The next time I'm teaching you playing guitar, you're going to be riding my dick all throughout"
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soracities · 9 months
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i dont know if it is just me but i feel like art is dying. there’s like a lack of space for the artists to explore. a lot of limitation surrounding making art right now.
* I dont if i were able to articulate my thoughts well 😅 (english is not my first language)
oh no your english is fine, lovely, don't worry 💕
it's interesting to me because i think "art is dying" is a statement that is as old as art itself; it has existed in one form or another in every century--people have said this for as long as humans have been making art and for as long the art being made has differed from the art that came a few years before it, and also for as long as the societies it is being made in have changed. i don't necessarily believe that art is dying, because to me art isn't something that can die—it simply cannot be measured in that way; it's a fundamental part of being human and it is always going to be made, no matter what the external circumstances look like.
sometimes, when we talk about creativity and its current state in whatever society we're in, we tend to lose sight of the bigger picture because we measure so much by works and artists that are already "established" (often without examining what factors allowed them to be established): Art™, as we perceive it in its finest and therefore "purest" state, is what ends up in galleries, or the books that top the bestsellers or the "must read" lists, or the songs that become "anthems of the summer" or endure for decades. but for me those divisions aren't set in stone; i don't draw a distinction between the working father who gave up music and the established musician who didn't; one may only sing and play for his kids now and then and the other may get to sing and play for hundreds or thousands regularly, but the intent behind their craft is the same, the moment they create is the same: you are making something and it is reaching someone and it is, in that moment, binding you together and allowing a moment of joy (or relief or community, the possibilities are many). that is art to me: a moment where the world inside you finally becomes bigger than yourself.
that said, i do think there are growing threats to how art is made and to who gets to make it and how that art then finds its way into the world--creativity requires freedom, not just financial, but also psychological and emotional and you cannot make art when you are run off your feet with a zero hours contract, or living paycheck to paycheck, or grappling with mental health issues, or your mind is crowded with endless to-do lists that leave very little room for you to even just get back to yourself, let alone art-making. i can only speak for what i see in most anglophone western countries and in that regard i agree with you in that there is a lack of space for artists to explore, because that space is only available to those who can afford it: those who do not worry about finances because they have an established safety net, those whose time is not tied up in work commutes or full-time or part-time caregiving etc., those who have access to the resources / people / know-how necessary to succeed commercially in their chosen field, and so on.
art--and the freedom to make art, of any kind--are a necessity for our wellbeing but it is, right now, being made into a commodity that only a few people can have access to: this is not to say that someone lucky enough to be well-off cannot write a beautiful story or paint a beautiful picture or articulate a startling philosophy, but that when the only people who are able to put their art out into the world are all from the same world, or from off-shots of, or sharing in, an already similar experience (middle or upper class, for example), it narrows the potential landscapes that the art surrounding us can contain and the experiences it is informed by (i think it also sends a deeply disturbing message; art is the single most human activity, the single most enduring heritage we have as a species, regardless of race or gender--it has persisted for millenia and established the very notion of our humanity and all the facets of whatever a soul might be; so for it then to be cordoned off like this with the implication that something so primal and species defining belongs only to a chosen few, is deeply insidious). art can be a door or art can be a mirror, but what kind of a world will it be when those lead you, always, to the same place?
i'm deeply against the idea of art as something to put on a pedestal, so when i say that i don't believe art can die, i don't mean that i believe art is something too deep or eternal or transcendent to be affected by the world around it; i just mean that human nature is, quite frankly, stubborn (i don't even mean this in a conscious way, i think it's something that is just blindly instinctive): we will always find a way to make something and this something happens across a spectrum of circumstances--it happens in spite of censorship & totalitarianism, in spite of poverty and in spite of shackles, in spite of the dead-end job with the boss you hate and in spite of boredom in the classroom. in spite of and through all these things people have made art and they have couched it in metaphor, or dressed it up with humour or veiled it in irony, and some have been blatant in their refusal and others have been more circumspect and, yes, some of it has been public and enduring, but a lot of it has been private: lullabies passed down, origami roses made of napkins, a busker at a street corner you share 5 minutes of your life with as you listen to them and then never come across that musician again, a scarf knitted for a friend, a hole in a shirtsleeve stitched over in a heart shape and etc etc etc. some has been big, and some has been small, and some has been made, not for the sake of any kind of endurance or legacy, but simply because: because i am an i and i am in this world and it is what it is (grief-stricken, astonishing, painful, lonely, incomprehensible) and i lend my existence whatever shape i can, even if it's just drawing aimless patterns in the sand on the beach. when i say i don't believe art can die i just mean that, no matter what is happening in the world, someone, somewhere, will crack a dick or a sex joke or craft the most godawful pun known to man and it will still be hilarious.
this is longer than i intended but to sum up i think for me, more than anything, it's the structures around art, the mechanisms through which it engages, actively and widely, with its society as a whole, that are being limited or threatened (or are changing in order to do the limiting and the threatening). and even then, when you get down to it. i think that itself is about something more; i think the only real threat to Art, as it stands, is an existential threat which, ultimately, is not so much about art as a whole but the broader ramifications of what it means to be human, to be a collection of humans, bound together and interacting with the world we are currently living in, with the trajectory it currently has. i think the real focus of whether or not art is dying should be there, because it's not so much about art as an isolated activity: it's about us. x
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