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rubra-wav · 2 months

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Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Pentious, Alastor, and Lucifer x a concerningly unstable, younger reader

@pandaquick

A/N : reader is still written to be 18ish

I took creative liberties with this, so I'm sorry if I've taken that a bit in the wrong direction w this one!

The song 'Mama's Boy' came on while I was deciding where I'll take this one and kinda made me start feeling some type of way/lh

You didn't really specify what type of unstable they are, so I went with depression type presentations for that

Cw: SFW, very slight references to past self-destructive behaviour, gn!reader, platonic, hurt/comfort, found family-ish (in all these except for Alastor's)

Charlie

- When you show up at the hotel, she's absolutely elated to have a new resident! Especially one who's new to hell and thus hasn't built up sky-high walls to everyone due to the harsh climate.

- When you disclose why you ended up here, she's utterly horrified.

- The idea someone could be condemned to this place which reeks of burning flesh at all times for something so stupid is truly exasperating.

- She almost has doubt creep into her mind about her dream when she hears the truth about your being in hell, but quickly flips it into positivity as it means you're easy to redeem.

- As you become closer and start opening up after feeling more comfortable, Charlie quickly becomes very concerned for your well-being.

- Sweeps you into her arms while trying (and failing) to not cry as she hears about the kinds of horrible thoughts going on often for you.

- From then on, if she ever notices you becoming withdrawn or particularly sensitive/unstable she will try to convince you to talk it out with her.

- If that's not something you're into? She just tries to distract you and sweep you along with her as she discusses possible activities for the hotel and other random stuff.

- At some point she starts becoming a caretaker to you emotionally and doesn't really even notice herself start to step into essentially becoming motherly towards you.

- She's just really afraid for you at times and wants to take care of you!

- You're also a fair bit younger than the people around you (including her), so even with you being an adult technically yourself she still slips into that kind of attitude.

Vaggie

- When you show up she can tell something is up under everything pretty quickly.

- She's dealt with a fair lot of mental anguish over the years so she can see the cracks in your mental state even before you feel comfortable openly discussing it.

- Will not approach it with you, but will do indirect things for you to try help you practically like making extra food for you as she cooks or reminding you to drink water if those are things you seem to struggling.

- Vaggie isn't the emotionally supportive type, so when she tries to be it seems awkward. She is genuine about it, though.

- Openly face palms when she hears that you got sent here for something so little. 'Classic heaven.' She'd grumble under her breath before apologising for you being sent to hell for something so stupid. (Confusing you and making her start sweating a bit because she's meant to be a demon not an angel-)

- As you start opening up more and more, she becomes even more practical in helping you out upon actually knowing what exactly you need.

- Feels incredibly concerned upon hearing the true extent to your instability and probably has some angst over not being emotionally warm as she would like to be.

- You two bond over mutual terrible experiences, and she essentially becomes a mentor-like figure to you.

- This turns more personal, though, as Charlie starts mothering you.

- Eventually you're essentially adopted by Vaggie and Charlie - they both work together to try to help you manage stuff and stay stable.

Angel

- Initially he'd be neutral to you most likely, just making the same sarcastic comments (albeit not suggestive. Even he has limits from what he's comfortable doing with his persona)

- When he hears how you got here, he just squints at you with a humourless laugh.

- The idea of someone being mostly non-sinful outside of ONE tiny, idiotic reason ending up in this shithole around people who are horrid abusers, to murderers, to every horrible thing possible is fucked.

- After discovering this, he'd be slightly inclined to be protective of you. Only slightly though initially. He can hardly support himself with his own baggage.

- This changes, though, after he learns of your history of self destruction and overall fragility as a demon.

- It's hard for him. He sees so much of himself in you - especially after just getting to hell.

- Despite his more logical thoughts of not trying to care for you, he does genuinely become extremely protective.

- You're the exact type of person who would be taken advantage of here, and he just wouldn't be able to sleep at night if he didn't even try to divert that from happening.

- He's not really the emotional support type, but he'd try to take your mind off of things with other activities. (Watch this man stumble trying to figure out age-appropriate activities for someone he sees as a kid in comparison to himself even if you're technically a legal adult.)

- In the streets, you have him armed to the teeth next to you at most times. It's funny to think about Angel trying to be scary dog privilege, but he actually is when he wants to be.

- Doesn't mother you or act as a guidance figure to you - god knows he is no good example - but he is gonna take out everyone in this bitch if anything happens to you.

Husk

- The second he meets you, he can see what's going on under everything, but he doesn't approach it at all.

- He's been a bartender collecting sob stories for years. He knows how to spot someone who is cracking under the surface or itching to tell their story or problems.

- He almost feels a prickle of empathy for your situation. Someone so young falling into hell of all places, clearly troubled, is a terrible situation. It's squashed the second he realises that you surely are sinful enough to have ended up here.

- As you reveal that your 'sin' was actually tiny however he curses as he actually now feels bad for you. I mean, come on, you're barely an adult, and you’ve been condemned for your whole afterlife for something so utterly small? He's losing the no heart impression he puts out.

- It scares him a bit honestly, so he avoids you like the plague. He'd rather ignore the pain someone like you being here brings him.

- Unfortunately, that doesn't work out as you come to him after a long day and break down at the counter of his bar. As he offers you an ear, he truly is annoyed at himself.

- Because oh god, he cannot take care of you, but he wants to help you.

- He tries to keep you at arms length as he eventually gives in to his want to try and help you out. Key word: tries.

- He's very rough around the edges in his approach, but he essentially steps in like a kind of really done, grumpy uncle who's always fretting over your wellbeing.

- He hates that he actually gives a shit but he would be incredibly restless if he didn't try to help or make sure you're okay.

- Ironically, he'd be telling you not to drink your problems away. Would be awkwardly giving examples of other coping mechanisms he'd learnt from Charlie's speeches about addiction.

- He's a hypocrite, but he doesn't care. It makes his bitter heart heavy to think of you getting into the vices he uses to cope.

- Also another one who is incredibly protective. Treats you like you're made of glass honestly.

Pentious

- He finds you strange mostly and is probably the most obviously curious out of everyone here about you and how you came to be here.

- Is asking the most questions even if they are tone deaf as it gets. How did you end up here? How did you die? Why are you moderately normal as compared to the other residents? (A comment which gets him a giant 'fuck you' and 'have you looked at yourself?' From everyone else around)

- He prods you into divulging information and is immediately protective of you from the second he learns that not only are you not really a sinner at all, but you are also quite fragile mentally.

- Someone like you should not be allowed to be tainted by hell's climate. He hides it behind him 'looking out for princess Charlie's dream', but he is truly afraid for you, and it's embarrassing to him.

- Is constantly all up in your business and trying to make sure you are well and okay.

- He's so paranoid that you're not alright that checking in on you almost becomes a compulsion for him. You've gotta end up reassuring him that you're just fine and that he doesn't need to be so worried.

- Absolutely a practical caretaker but is also big on physical touch as comfort.

- If you're ever crying or not feeling good, he will get you stuff and then he just straight up wraps his tail around you and pats your hair while telling you it's going to be okay.

- If you're ever out and he's with you, his immediate instinct is to try throw hands with anyone who looks at you mildly wrong. Due to not having his weapons anymore, he gets his ass beat doing this.

- When he's unable to be around you, he's going to have his eggs with you to help you out if you need anything.

- Really does turn into a worried mother over being like a father more than anything.

Alastor

- Unlike the others, he would see you solely as an opportunity.

- There's no cute found-family part here. He will use you.

- It would be so easy to convince you to enter into a deal with him as someone vulnerable and inexperienced with hell. He can see how fragile you are under the surface the second you get to the hotel more then just about everyone there.

- Everyone else would be pulling you away from him because it's so obvious you are nothing but easy pickings for him that it's not even funny.

- Would be very genuinely interested in how someone like you ended up in hell though.

- He got here by murdering and exploiting people in every way possible for his own entertainment. How could someone so seemingly innocent get here?

- Openly laughs when he hears your story of sin. He truly pities you getting sent down into hell with people him.

- You avoid him because you can see his intentions on your own, just as much as the people around you are telling you to stay away.

- He, of course, doesn't let that happen. He just likes to show up and watch you fumble through hell like you're prime entertainment.

- He may sometimes help you, but it's only because he just thinks the sight of you struggling is that pathetic to him.

- It may slowly become more of a fondness for you and your company, but the underlying reason for his kind behaviours to you is nothing good.

- He just wants to own you like an item, see how long it takes for someone so pure as a demon to break, and become just as bad as the rest of them.

Lucifer

- Unlike everyone else who are concerned for you, he sees you and instantly slips into dadTM mode with you, and this only deepens the more he learns about you.

- You almost remind him of how he is with how different you are from all of the other demons, and he feels genuine guilt that someone like you has ended up here.

- If he had never done what he did, you would be up in heaven and not condemned to this hell-hole. He doesn't think you should be down here at all for such a tiny mistake you made in your life.

- When he realises you are also really unstable and vulnerable he's going to be terrified for you.

- Especially with someone like Alastor looming over you at all times.

- He was already getting his shit back together when he began to mend things with Charlie, but he straightens up even more when he meets you and starts growing attached quickly.

- He's initially a bit distant despite his want to try care for you because he's already mending things with Charlie, but Charlie actually encourages him to reach out to you.

- She's essentially your unofficial mum in the hotel, but she's far from perfect at that, so she would like it if he would help however he could.

- Very emotionally supportive with you after he gets to be openly caretaking to you.

- He's still a bit awkward as he's essentially there getting his shit together alongside trying to help you out, but he tries to help wherever he can.

- Will absolutely love it if Charlie, Vaggie, you and him could do activities together for fun.

- He's also scary dog privilege 100%. His worry for you would likely come off as him seeming like he's going to absolutely drop demons and scare the living shit out of them.

Masterlist

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comradekarin · 8 months

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That last ask you got here, just reminds me of the fact that while TS fandom claims to be all about feminism and women supporting women, it surely lacks intersectionality and it SHOWS and this is in great part because that’s the kind of advocacy they get from the celeb they worship, that’s why is dangerous to just pander to one kind of feminism as if everyone had an universal experience, when it couldn’t be further from the reality, we need to have those conversations we need to learn from one another and whoever has a privilege, should make good use of it to uplift those who can’t at the moment

Yup!! That’s basically the point I’m trying to hone to be honest. Again, I absolutely believe we should support female artists in the music industry, especially when they will be held to higher standards than other male artists (even in that area we can have a conversation about the dynamic race plays between male artists, too). However, it’s imperative we discuss how Taylor and her fans only use feminism to tell other people they can’t be mean to her, or critique her. Are these group of people the minority in the fan base? Maybe, sure. But should we sweep it under the rug and let it fester just because it’s the minority? No.

Do I believe the average Taylor Swift stan is normal and doesn’t hate black women? Yes. I believe there’s a lot of them who just enjoy her music and don’t feel the need to bash other black female artists in order to prove how much better Taylor is. Nonetheless, there’s still a large group of her fans who claim to support all women but will not hesitate to degrade and shut out the voices of woc making valid criticisms against Taylor. Just look at the Matty Healy situation. A white woman’s partner is exposed for making disgusting racist comments about black women, and the responses are not “this powerful rich white woman is continuing to date this man and is being complicit through her silence, which is enabling his repulsive behavior and she needs to be held accountable” but instead “we need her to stay away from this bad man!”. Yes, because the image and reputation of this white woman is more important than the dangerous rhetoric her partner is spreading about the same women she claims to support! Yes, because this white woman can have a collab with the same woman (ice spice) her boyfriend was making racist remarks about and everything is ok! Yes, because it is the white woman who is the victim here, and if you can’t see that you’re a misogynist!

Taylor’s silence during the wave of transphobia, the criminalization and banning of drag shows, the uptick of hate against black women, and so much more just makes sense when you look at the company she keeps. Didn’t her team try to sue a journalist for stating Taylor constantly toes the line with conservatives and white supremacists a few years back? Just look at the CO2 emissions drama where everyone was like “man I hate privileged white millionaires” and then she dropped an album and everyone forgot? Any critique for Taylor is met with these responses: A) Taylor isn’t the worst apple out of the bunch so why is she getting attacked like this B) Y’all would never do this to male celebrities so just say y’all hate women C) Why is Taylor blamed for the actions of other men or D) [justifying anything Taylor has done].

So, what you’re saying is correct anon. We can not talk about feminism and supporting “all women” while also trying to lump the struggles of all women into a single category. The initial Feminist movement itself excluded other women of color, it was something only meant for white women. White women have a level of privilege over other women of color, and we can’t pretend they don’t because they’re just “women, too”. White women and their fake white tears have done so much harm to marginalized communities, especially my own black community. I want this conversation to actually mean something, for it to be a moment of self reflection, for it to actually be about supporting, advocating for, and uplifting the voices of all women. I don’t want this talk of “support all women” to only be brought up when someone attacks your white fav.

#ask #sorry this was so long anon but thank you so much for this ask #we have cannot pretend we support all women when our silence and inaction says otherwise #anti taylor swift #anti swifties #anti blackness #white feminism

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are-you-still-writing-that · 5 months

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Killua Relationship Headcanons

As soon, as I step out of a format, believe me I´m struggling. So, I already know, that I will also struggle quite badly with this one. Though, I´m sure I will find my way around this one as well.

What I´m looking at is a request from a darling anon, who requested relationship headcanons for Killua, in response of me posting the yandere headcanons. So, I will have to take another look at this boy and figure out how he would act as well in this particular situation.

Well, that´s surely going to piece of cake, won´t it...

Killua Relationship Headcanons

He was very likely the driving force behind getting this relationship started → very picky who he talks too, or even which names he remembers

Because of something like this, he wouldn´t even realize if you were the one flirting with him

This could become very funny (at least to me), if you´re oblivious

A bit of a bastard to you

Tends to pick on you quite a bit → all in good faith, even though some of his comments tend to turn into a mean direction

Hilariously enough, it´s how he tries to show you affection → bit of Kindergarten-Logic that one

Still very attentive and attuned to you → knows when he hurt you and apologizes, also aware when something seems to be stressing you out

He is aware of what you´re feeling

This will cause, by the way, as many problems as it´s solves

Because he somewhat expects you to be attuned to him in the same way

Which means he rarely talks about hat he feels, and just thinks you will know what he feels without him telling you

It´s like pulling teeth when you try talking emotions with him as well... good luck...

Someone who shares food with you

Another way he tries to show you affection → like I said very much like 5 year old...

Say goodbye to an evening at home → wants to see new stuff whenever he can and enjoys sharing the experience with his partner

You better get along with Gon and Alluka

Otherwise he will drop you without hesitation (their opinion means everything to him) → later yours will as well

Actually takes a lot of input from you

Tends to remember your likes and dislikes very well

Will show this very off-handedly (probably not even actively memorizing anything)

Has a habit of losing himself in his relationships

You NEED to ask him every now and then for his opinion and separate the two of you into individual people, instead of being one

Needs someone who can slow him down every now and again → he´s always alert, all the time, it will burn him out someday

Don´t sweep him along → he needs the space, otherwise he will be lost!

Hilariously enough, a bit of a gentleman → tends to walk on the side wherever the road is, like he bodily puts himself between the road and you

In general tends to put himself bodily between any perceived danger and you → also something that seems to happen unconsciously

Also the first one that will pull you away from some things

Likes to keep you in sight of him → a strong tendency to let you decide where to go, or to simply point over you shoulder when he wants to go somewhere specific

Not big on PDA → will hold your hand, sure, but please don´t kiss him, yeah the hug is also fine

Terrible at communication → never tells you anything

Doesn´t mean he is good at keeping secrets though... → he will share it before you know it with Gon or Alluka

Their secrets are also shared with you though Still, there is always some understanding between the two of you and he always tries to make sure that you know that he loves you. He understands your actions and your words and knows that you know him well enough to understand him as well. He is someone, that will try to make the relationship work. And with a little bit of cooperation, you two will make bond, that could last a lifetime.

#killua #hunterxhunter #hxh #killua zoldyck #killua headcanons #killua x reader #xreader #hunterxhunter headcanons #hxh headcanons

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beautifulterriblequeen · 1 month

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TDP rewatch: autistic Soren?

I spent a lot of time going along with everyone else saying that Soren was a big dumbass. And for that, I would now like to apologize. I don’t think Soren’s dumb. I think he’s autistic.

As an autistic person, I feel bad for not spotting this earlier. But, like Soren, I do have a tendency to believe what I’m told, especially when everyone is saying the same thing. And this may not be canon, ever, but that’s okay. I see Soren in a new light now, and I know that light. (Gods, S3 is really gonna wreck me now)

He doesn’t get sarcasm. He takes Rayla’s “obviously” sarcastic comment at face value. He’s also not good with metaphor, taking a long time to grasp “butter them up.” Once he’s figured out what he should do--lie about the king--he does a very bad job of it because the emotions he needs to embrace to sell the lie aren’t familiar to him.

He’s very good with rules. A father who needed a son who was rooted in the narrative of strength could easily have trained an autistic child to bind himself within those rules form a young age. It’ll be very hard for Soren to question rules that he consciously chose to follow himself.

He doesn’t understand the shifting of loyalties. First he’s a loyal Crownguard, and then he’s supposed to detain Callum because his dad asked him to? Soren’s genuinely confused.

He still chooses to protect Callum when the assassins attack, even shoving him to safety from Runaan’s arrow, because those old rules of loyalty to the royal family haven’t been shifted.

He’s also slow to react to the arrow striking him. He takes precious reaction time to study it closely. He’s probably never seen a Moonshadow assassin’s arrow before. It telescopes in three places. It’s green. It probably smells faintly of poison. Soren’s possibly also never been shot before. All these physical details are hitting him at once, all with equal force, and it takes him a moment to sort through them, process them, and remember that the arrow means the assassins have arrived.

He spends time and effort trying to speak others’ languages, but he doesn’t always get it right. He knows Claudia’s nose trick but he can’t perfectly replicate it. He misinterprets Rayla’s angry intent as personal interest. He really tries to connect with his dad by offering his “see-saw” comment (which is actually right on the money as far as the show’s themes are concerned).

He’s oddly focused on the difference between a prince and a “step-prince.” Not in a mean way, though. He thinks it means he’s paying attention to small details, which people often like. Not particularly in this case, though.

He really does just want to fit in. He does whatever Viren says because he wants to be accepted, not just as Viren’s son but as a not-weird, not-useless person.

Claudia’s the one who makes the jokes. He happily lets her lead on the mission to Mount Kaelik and has no ego attached to being in charge of her.

He’s really awkward with his brotherly feels when he calls her “weep-ridden” and offers to help by punching Callum. Autistics can struggle with language, especially in unfamiliar emotional territory and under stress.

He hyperfocuses on being a Crownguard, though, which is why he’s so good at it, and why he’s in charge. He does nothing but train. He loves being a Crownguard. He knows that role inside and out. He knows when to order men into position, and he knows when to shut up and hand the king his sword.

He insists that sweeping the leg is not a thing, though, because it’s outside his training. None of the Crownguard instructors taught him that, and so it is outside the rules.

When he votes that Corvus is a traitor and gets Claudia to vote with him, he’s reinforcing the rules that he learned. The black-and-white shield on his armor isn’t just an indicator that he’s straddling the line between good and evil and will one day have to make a choice. It’s showing the way Soren sees the world: everything is either inside the rules, or outside them. Soren doesn’t see gray areas. But he might learn to very soon.

He’s cheerily cold-blooded about lopping Runaan’s head off and trying to kill Rayla because empathy is a strange animal for autistic folks. Sometimes it’s really high, and sometimes it’s nonexistent, even within the same person. Between a low empathy for elves and his Crownguard training, Soren legitimately doesn’t see any problem with killing them, even at the age of 18.

He knows the rules on how to deal with dragons: you fight them. And he gets a whole town torched. He was entirely unprepared. But his ego wasn’t in this fight. He freed Corvus because he understands that a Crownguard’s job is to protect Katolis, and that includes the townsfolk. And he admitted his mistake to Claudia because filters are hard under stress, and the truth just pops out like that.

When he’s paralyzed, Soren has no ego attached to remaining a Crownguard, either. His hyperfocus has broken. He was growing increasingly stressed by his dad’s secret mission. And he immediately seeks a new hyperfocus: poetry. He gives it a shot, and he’s terrible at it. He hasn’t actually internalized any poetry rules yet. He’d become a good poet pretty quickly, if he had the chance. But Claudia came to heal him instead.

As S2 ends and the siblings head home together, Soren has no plan anymore. He has no rules for what’s gonna happen, and he can’t anticipate Viren’s reaction but he expects it’ll be bad. He asks Claudia for help in understanding what his parameters should be, because that’s a long trip home, and that’s a lot of time spent worrying over scenarios that he has to consider because he can’t narrow it down--every possibility is a legitimate possibility to him.

[unfinished tdp meta]

#soren #autistic soren #tdp meta #can you believe there was a time when we did not See #release the drafts

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sunflowersandsapphires · 7 months

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Fall Drabbles, Day 3

prompt: scarecrow

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: When the new member of his town is struggling, Frank lends a hand.

warnings: swearing, once again adorable levels of fluff

a/n: When I tell y'all I am SO excited for this one. This is a Lumberjack!Frank Stardew Valley AU!!!! You do not need to be familiar with the game to enjoy this piece. Let me know if y'all want to see more in this AU!

w/c: <1k

Wiping the sweat off his brow, Frank let the ax head thud against the lush grass. Huffing a breath, he stretched his tense shoulders, trying to unravel the stubborn knots building across his upper back from the extensive physical labor. As he was about to lift the ax once more, a rustling in the clearing behind him gave him pause.

Squinting, he made out a figure crouched by a stack of sticks across the meadow. After a moment, the person shifted towards him enough for him to identify you.

He’d only spoken to you twice, if single word sentences and grunts could be considered speaking, but he knew a lot about you. The unfortunate effects of being a newcomer in a small rural town, he supposed, your entire existence became exciting local news. You were looking after Old Man Taylor’s run down cabin, he’d even heard whispers about you repairing the place to start a farm.

Despite learning a majority about you from other people, you intrigued him. Everything about you was young, soft, sweet, not at all what he expected a new farmer to be considering the aging community he lived in.

In the distance, you rifled through the pile of fallen branches at the base of the large oak tree, studying the group before selecting a few to add to your basket. Hands perched on your hips, you tilted your head before grasping the largest of the bunch, a split tree limb, and dragging it backwards. Frank bit back a laugh as your body lost the fight against the weight and resistance of the branch when you fell on your ass. Deciding to stop lurking and come to your aid, he called from across the clearing. “Was that the plan or did ya need some help?”

Whirling around, butt still planted on the mossy ground, you laughed when you spotted him. “Lord above, Frank, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Basking in the beautiful tone of your voice, he strode over to you, watching your beautifully unmarred hands brush dirt off of your overalls as you stood up.

Heat flooded your face as you replayed his offer in your head. ”You saw my valiant attempt then...“ Biting your lip, you glanced up at him.

Sucking in a breath, Frank was taken aback by the immediate effect your doe eyes had on him. ”Happens to the best of us.“ He shrugged, hoping that his face hadn't betrayed his desire to sweep you off your feet and carry you back to your place.

You scoffed, "Oh yeah? Hard to believe you given that you're so...” You trailed off, circling a hand in his general direction.

The barest hint of a smirk graced his lips. “So what, sweetheart?”

Huffing in embarrassment, you averted your eyes from his stunningly fit body. “Nothing.” You murmured.

Eyes softening, Frank looked to you for approval. “Did ya want a hand with that?”

There were those magnificent doe eyes again. You nodded slowly.

Grasping the fallen limb with one hand, Frank hefted it up with ease, setting it over a broad shoulder. “Where to, dollface?”

Smiling at the nickname, you answered shyly. “My cabin, if that's not too far for you.”

“Course not, since I'm so...” He imitated your comment from earlier and you rolled your eyes.

“You know what, tough guy!” You laughed, not finishing the empty threat.

“What're you plannin' on doin' with this thing anyway? Clubbin' seals?”

You looked at him, horrified, “No! Of course not! I would never--” You paused, then rolled your eyes. “That's a cruel joke, Frank. You had me thinking I'd made an awful impression.”

Frank chuckled. ”Sorry, dollface.”

“You're forgiven.” You smiled sweetly. “And, since you asked SO nicely, I'm building a scarecrow.”

Brow furrowing, Frank's steps faltered, “A scarecrow?”

“Yeah, they're these little human-shaped statues that you put in the middle of your crops to scare the crows.” You explained, twinkle of jest in your eye as you smirked at him.

“I know what they are, smart ass.” Frank snorted, “I meant why're you buildin' one?”

You shrugged, eyes falling to the ground, “I, uh, I planted some crops a few weeks ago and the birds got to them as soon as theey sprouted. Guess I'm not too good at this whole 'farming' thing, huh?” The chuckle that left your mouth was humorless and sad. Frank's heart twisted in response.

“Hey now, you're tryin'. That's what matters.”

Giving an unsure smile, your lips twitched upwards. “Thanks, Frank.”

“Course, sweetheart. Did you want some help buildin' it?”

Tilting your head, your voice was laced with appreciative surprise, “You'd do that?”

Nodding solemnly, Frank gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “In a heartbeat, dollface.”

With a giggle, you took his free hand and pulled him all the way back to your house.

A few hours, buckets of sweat, and a quick trip to Frank's place later, the two of you looked proudly at the tall, only slightly lopsided, scarecrow standing guard in your field.

Running a hand over the flannel shirt that composed the torso, a soft smile sprouted. “I hope you don't want this shirt back.“

Frank squeezed your shoulder. ”It looks better on him anyway.“

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x female reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle fluff #the punisher netflix #the punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #punisher #nmcu #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #my writing #fc #fall prompts 2023

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wildbornsiren · 2 years

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sfw alphabet |b.b.

sfw alphabet | b.b. author’s notes: I love this man. So much. Thank you to @ponyboys-sunsets for being in my head already and asking if I was interested in posting this. Thank you so much for liking/reblogging and commenting. It warms my black little heart. what: a collection of safe for work headcanon featuring Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. Gender neutral reader, 3,360 words. warning: None.

A: Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Physical touch and quality time are how he shows his affection. Holding your hand, his hand at the small of your back, or his hand in your back pocket as you walk together. He doesn’t get a lot of down time, and so when he has it, it’s spent with you. You don’t have to do -anything-, he’s perfectly happy to curl up on the couch with you and read or listen to something. When you do go out, expect fun and fast paced. He likes to surround himself with people and is a strong believer in found family. He is also always down for a road trip if he has a long stretch of leave. Lots of stops, spending too much money in gas stations on snacks and expertly tailored playlists.

B: Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) Rooster is a ride-or-die. You’re drunk and need a lift home? He’ll come get you (if he’s not attempting to call an uber at the same time and ending up drunk dialing someone else entirely). Need a body hid? He’ll help you move it. He has called you to bail him out once or twice—For very good reasons that neither of you speak of, ever again. Once he trusts you? You’re stuck with him. Expect ‘text me when you get home’ when you part for the evening, and don’t you dare forget it. Your neighbors have just forgiven you from the last time you passed out without texting him that you were home and safe.

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) Good luck getting out of bed without a struggle in the morning. This man’s call sign should have been octopus with the way he holds tight, and no matter how hard you try you can’t evade his grasp. He enjoys resting his head in your lap while you watch tv or movies. Occasionally when you’re cooking or cleaning together, he’ll sweep you up in his arms and slow dance with you around the kitchen. Physical touch is one of his love languages, and so he’s very hands on. Holding hands, fingers interlocked his thumb brushing along the back of your hand, when you’re in line he’s at your back, arms around you sheltering you from the breeze. D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) Rooster wants to have the ultimate love story. He wants to settle down with someone and carve out a life together. He was raised by a romantic who found her soulmate, and he wants that as well. He’s an okay cook—if your idea of cooking is opening containers and heating it up. He can follow along with recipes, but it never turns out just right. His place is clean, a little cluttered from the sheer amount of records and recorded music he has. He’s got a third-hand piano and sheet music stacked on a lot of the flat surfaces.

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner how would they do it?) He doesn’t end relationships. All of his break-ups were initiated by his partner. If his feelings lessen, or he’s not entirely in the relationship he doesn’t sabotage, but retreats into himself and cuts himself off emotionally.

F: Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) Even moreso than Hangman, Rooster is all too aware of the burdens of leaving behind a family if he’s killed in the line of duty. He will want to have you taken care of. He witnessed how the Navy supported his mother, and him after Goose passed and will want to make sure you’re secure if anything were to happen to him. The conversation comes up rather quickly once you’ve established that you’re in a serious relationship. It’s not a deal breaker, but if you haven’t considered it when he goes on difficult deployments, he’ll bring it up again. Its one of the few times you see this self-assured, confident man stumble over his words. He’ll propose using Carole’s engagement ring and will treasure you. Spouse this man up, please. G: Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) He handles you as if you’re the most precious thing on the face of the planet. Even when you argue he doesn’t raise his voice to you. You can count on one hand the times he had, and only once it was in a negative connotation. He dotes on you. Often you need remind him that your partnership is a partnership, and though he’s the one with the broad shoulders, you can also carry some of the weight. When that happens, you end up in the driver’s seat of his beat-up bronco, driving him out to the middle of the desert. Both of you will sit on the hood, and it’s there in the quiet of the night with the stars stretching out endlessly above you that he’ll share some of that emotional burden.

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) One of Rooster’s love languages is physical touch. Hug this man. Often. His hugs are all encompassing, folding himself around you, full body contact. He’s one that will pull you under his arm when you’re walking on the sidewalk, come up behind you when you’re doing the dishes, arms wrapped around your waist, chin on the top of your head. He wants the tangible proof that you’re there with him. I: I love you (how fast do they say the L-word) By the time Rooster gets around to actually saying that he loves you, you already know. It’s painfully obvious to everyone around you. Its in the way his eyes immediately gravitate toward you in a crowd, the way he remembers little things. It’s the kisses, the hand holding, the hugs, late night conversations, terrible jokes. The way his eyes darken when you steal those god-awful Hawaiian shirts. The way the harsh lines of his face relax the moment you appear next to him. It’s the good morning texts, the good night/I miss you voice notes when he’s out on a mission and has ability to have outside contact. The polaroid he snapped that he keeps in the inner pocket of his flight suit so he’s never without you. This man grew up listening to stories of his parent’s love story and wants to have one of his own. However, when he does say it out loud, he needs to hear it back, and often.

J: Jealousy (how jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) He’s not jealous of your friends, even if they match your sexual orientation. He very much understands the concept of found families, and when you say that you’re just friends with someone, he believes you. When he’s jealous, the green-eyed monster is insatiable. He will physically put himself between you and someone trying to catch your attention. He wants your eyes on him, and will remind you just how crazy you make him.

K: Kisses (what are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) He kisses you like he’s drowning and you’re the safety line. He kisses you often, and each one is just as breathtaking as the last. It’s one of his favorite forms of PDA, and enjoys kissing the back of your hand, your shoulder, cheek, forehead. Tucking you under his arm as you walk and turning his head to kiss the top of your head when you’re waiting to cross the street. Rooster loses his mind when you kiss his neck and may pull away if you do it in public, because he can’t trust himself to react in a way that’s fit for public consumption.

L: Little ones (how are they around children?) He likes kids, is still unsure of having children of his own due to his work, and how he lost his dad. He’s incredibly patient and loves listening to their rambling stories, or about their hyper fixations, plans, day. He is comfortable with kids, and any child in his presence will be safe no matter what. He’s one of those people that reassure kiddos that they can talk to him about anything, and he’ll respect their privacy so long as they’re not hurting themselves or others. He’ll toss a ball around, show up at games or plays, concerts ect. He’s also perfectly happy wandering down the beach with a little one holding onto his finger stopping every few steps to look at tide pools or shells.

M: Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?) There are people who have one alarm to get up in the morning. Rooster isn’t one of those people. He’s got one set for 0500, 0530, 0545, 0600 and 0615. To be fair, he’s generally awake with the first alarm, he just likes the extra time to be snuggled up with you. Workdays he’s out of bed by 0615, showered, changed and on the way to the kitchen for coffee and breakfast by 0645. He’ll sit on the edge of the bed and chat with you until you either roll over and stop talking to him or get up and join him. When he’s on leave or the weekends? He’ll stay in bed until about 0800. He takes his time waking up and expect wandering hands and lazy kisses. Raspy voiced murmurs of adoration, and messy hair for days. He’ll go for a run if you promise to start the coffee, and once he’s come back, he’ll take a quick shower and help you in the kitchen. N: Night (How are nights spent with them?) You know how there’s ‘movie people’, ‘book people’ and the like? He’s a music person. After the dinner dishes have been cleared away, and you’re settled in comfortable for the night he’ll put something on. A playlist, a cd, a tape, or even vinyl. It’s a weekend tradition for the two of you to sprawl out on the floor, him on his back, your head on his stomach listening to the songs. It’s quiet, peaceful, his fingers combing through your hair, or tapping the tempo on your shoulder. He’s a bit of a night owl, so often you go to bed alone, only to have him crawl in next to you a couple hours later.

O: Open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) Surface things quickly. You learn his music taste, the fact that he loves the piano, dancing in the kitchen as breakfast slowly burns while love songs from the 60s play. He’ll talk about his mom, adventures and misadventures growing up, his time in basic, etc. It takes a long time for him to talk about his dad, and even longer to talk about Maverick. When he talks about the things, he keeps close it’s just the two of you. The first time you heard him talk about his dad you’re sitting on the beach. The tide was coming in, so you took refuge near the dunes, the sand cool under your toes. It was gray, not raining but storm clouds were coming in over the ocean. He was standing next to you, staring out at the water, his expression blank, eyes hidden by the mirrored aviators. He tells you how Goose passed, his voice flat, and you can see him swallow hard a few times, but continuing with the story. You get to hear how much Carole loved her husband and how she raised Bradley on a steady stream of stories, photos and grainy videos. When he's exhausted, he drops into the sand next to you, and is quiet until you feel comfortable speaking.

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?) This man bottles every negative emotion up. When it can’t be contained anymore, he explodes. When he confronted Maverick about holding his papers is an example of this. Hangman is a walking irritation for him, though he’s figured out a couple workarounds after the mission. He has a short fuse and holds grudges: see Maverick, and how Hangman left Phoenix and Bob. Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?) Rooster is extremely observant. He notices the nuances of your day-to-day life and keeps mental note of your likes and interests. He also loves to hear you talk about your interests and if you stop, apologize for rambling his ear off, he’ll frown a little and tell you to keep going. You’re in his life, and you’re important to him—so what’s important to you is now important to him. He remembers that you’re not super fond of blue cheese, and that you prefer orange roses to red, as well as keep track of all the office gossip you share with him.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) ‘you up?’ the text woke you up. Groping blindly for your phone, you squinted as the screen illuminated the room brilliantly. ‘Who’s dead.’ The response is near immediate. ‘Open your door?’ You roll out of bed, blanket draped over your shoulders, and you go to the front door, the floor cold under your feet, and open the door. Rooster’s standing there under your flickering porch light, a to-go cup of coffee in his hand and a plain white paper bag that smells suspiciously like donuts in the other. He's in jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt and blue Hawaiian print shirt, aviators dangling from the neckline. If it weren’t butt-o-clock in the morning, he’d be absolutely delicious. “What.” “Get changed, I want to show you something.” “Bradley, do you know what…” the protest dies on your lips when you see that smile. Plus, the coffee smells so good, and those donuts were fresh. “Come in.” You hold the door open for him to come inside, leaving him in the entry way. Clad in jeans and a sweatshirt, the coffee cup cradled in your hands as you sit in the passengers set of that dilapidated Bronco regretting some of your life choices. He takes you on base, through a couple of checkpoints and out onto the airstrip. He parks near one of the hangars, coming around the car to let you out. Instead of taking his offered hand, you put the empty donut bag in it, and hop out. You get a one-on-one tour of the hangar and an up close and personal look at the jets. He’s talking your ear off, and you’re only really hanging on to every third word, as the caffeine hasn’t kicked in enough to keep up with his excitement. The meaning behind him bringing you on this tour isn’t lost on you, and you find yourself looking up at him, watching as he explains a minute detail about the navigation system. His eyes are bright, voice warming you all the way to your toes. It’s then, that you realize that this man, was going to be a part of your life for as long as you both are around. S: Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) You protect him by reminding him that he’s not alone. That he has someone to come home to, someone that’s waiting for him, and someone who is just as stupidly in love as he is. Your presence in his life is something he needed and will fight tooth and nail to keep. Rooster, on the other hand is very protective. He's a hands-on kind of man, keeping you close in crowds, one hand at the small of your back as you’re walking together, you’re the first one in the car, and he’ll come around to open the door for you to get out. He will also tell you up front to walk away from a project or a problem if you’re stuck and can’t find a solution. Once you’re calm, he’ll prompt you to talk through it step by step until everything’s clear. He lives in a duplex and knows his neighbors on a first name basis. Basic lock and deadbolt combo. He is the guy who has a baseball bat by his bed just in case, but he sees violence/aggression as a last option when he’s not under orders to engage.

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Dates with Rooster are spontaneous. It’ll go from tentatively having plans of meeting up for a bite to eat to him showing up on your doorstep at nine in the evening with a wicked grin and a plan to cause trouble. He remembers and celebrates significant anniversaries, when you started dating, your promotion, your birthday. He remembers the first time he kissed you properly, or when you left your toothbrush at his place but doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He’ll also remember your parent’s birthdays, and siblings as well as their anniversaries and send them a text on that day. Gifts aren’t normally extravagant. He’ll leave you an honest to God mixtape with a note if he has a long or particularly difficult deployment coming up. He writes letters or sends post cards from various duty stations. If there’s a chance for him to get off base, he’ll generally find something at a street market or farmer’s market- a trinket, a piece of jewelry. He has been known to come back with rocks or seashells for you. Touch and quality time are more his speed, but he does make an effort.

U: Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) Rooster is notorious for shutting down when things get too heavily emotionally. This man carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and would rather hold it in and break down internally that share any of the burden with you. V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) He's not as vain as some (*cough cough* Hangman *cough), but he takes care of himself. He keeps his hair styled since it has an aggressive wave to it, and he refuses to buzz it after basic training. He keeps his facial hair neat and trimmed, keeps his moustache soft and well groomed, especially since his hair has some texture to it. He works out, weights, swimming and running. His day-to-day clothes come from secondhand stores, or shirts he inherited from his dad. He’s got one suit, but most of the time if he needs to go somewhere formal, he’ll wear his dress blues. He smells like worn leather, cedar and a little bit of sunscreen. W: Whole (would they feel incomplete without you?) Romantically, if he lost you, there’s no coming back for him. If you’ve lost him as a friend, he’ll be curt in public, but otherwise ignore you. X: Xtra (a random headcanon for them) You’re curled up on the couch, book in hand, ear buds in, listening to your favorite album from your favorite band. Rooster is drops onto the couch next to you, his head settling in your lap as you adjust your book to allow him room, and the ability to keep reading. His hand closes around your wrist, lifting it away from the book, kissing your palm. Between songs you can hear him asking what you’re listening to. You hand him one of your earbuds and he pops it in. You start the album over, and he shifts slightly, head fully on your lap. His eyes are closed as he listens to the songs. Your book forgotten, you put it to the side, instead intrigued by the emotions flitting across his face, his fingers tapping along with the drum line on his chest. His hair is soft under your fingers, body following suit as the songs progress, and he relaxes. When the album is done, he sits up, pulling him against his chest. His lips press against your hair, thanking you for letting him in. Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) Calculated risk he understands, life is a game and moves need to be made. However, if there’s a way to do something without causing undue harm to anyone involved, he’ll do it. He hates recklessness, and casual disregard for others. Betrayal is another heavy negative—he sees Maverick’s interference with his admission to the academy as a betrayal. Rooster had let it stew for a few years, and when it boiled over at Top Gun it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. After the mission he’s working on mending the relationship and going forward. Z: Zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs?) Rooster is a bit of a night owl, but he’s got this uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere. You’ve witnessed him napping at the bar, on the beach, the laundromat, at the dining room table. You swear you caught him napping while taking a shower, but he denies that. His bedroom is cluttered, he’s got boxes of stuff from his mom’s place, and a mountain of dirty clothes. His window is always open, and he’s got a fan on. Rooster runs warm and likes to sleep when it’s cold. He sleeps in boxers, and latches onto you once he’s in bed. On the rare chance that he gets to bed before you do, you have to basically shove him out of the way, because he will take up the entirety of a king-sized bed, and neither of you know how he does it.

#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw/Reader #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw/You #Rooster headcanons #sfw headcanon #Rooster/You #Rooster/Reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun: Maverick fanfiction #imagines #reader insert #shelly writes

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crystallizedkingdoms · 8 months

Text

your room was square

Square rooms and small boxes keep Rory awake at night. The only thing on his mind is the ache that is his lover.

wc: 2,224

you can also read this on ao3 <3

Alex puts us all in boxes.

I don’t think that’s really a secret. Anyone who has ever talked to him can see it in his eyes. Those eyes sweep across your entire body, searching for anything he can take, use, pick apart, then put you in a box once he is done with you. He’s done it with all of us in his friend group. He’s done it to me.

I’m not sure if that makes sense, but the visual comes pretty naturally to me. I think about boxes when I’m alone with him. It’s hard not to.

Alex’s room is square, perfectly equilateral. Even though his cramped twin bed is tucked into an awkward corner, when I look up at the ceiling from the discomfort of his mattress, I feel like I am stuck in the middle of it all. It’s a strange sensation. It feels wrong and unnatural. Its confines are no different from the box Alex places me in.

Except I walked into this one willingly.

It’s a weird pedestal of its own, I guess. I know Alex struggles to figure out what to do with me. There’s this weird intersection of the me he knew and hated when we first met, and the me he’s with now. I guess it’s why he wants to keep us a secret from everyone else. He’s not sure which one to judge me on all the time, so he leans hard on one or the other when he gets frustrated.

Alex is always frustrated.

I turn in the bed, twisting my body to face him. His bed is so small, and the room is so cramped that all I can see and feel and smell is Alex, Alex, Alex. He’s laying on his side with his face so close to mine and his arm loosely wraps around my waist. He would never do this awake, so I know for a fact that he is actually asleep.

I can’t help but look down at us. We are both far too big for his bed, so we have to huddle up against each other to even fit. Alex is curled up on my side and I am awkwardly trying to fit myself into the middle, where I have no space. Alex’s body lays naturally while I awkwardly try to squeeze next to him. My legs find the crook of his knees, my hand rests on the small of his back, our clothes are ruffled and pulled in strange ways by our limbs. Our bodies press so close that I dimly, stupidly, think they look twisted together.

It’s only in quiet times like these, where I can see our bodies and the souls that inhabit us, that I think about the things that Alex hates.

Alex hates a lot of things about me.

I think about how I’m taller than Alex. I know for a fact he hates that about me, even when he tells me off for slouching. He only ever fusses and tells me to straighten up when we’re alone. When no one can see our true height difference; when Alex is nicer, when he cares about me. He never fusses when we’re in public or with our friends. Especially not when we’re beside each other.

I slouch a little more. He straightens his back for an extra inch of height. I let it happen. What else am I supposed to do?

It’s a little funny, the extent that his hate goes. Like, my shoulders are broad, and so is my entire body. Despite that, I paint my nails black and have long blond hair that nobody really likes, and I hide my toned body under beaten-down hoodies. So, most people don’t say I’m masculine when they look at me. They usually say the opposite, actually. I’ve gotten used to the comments. I’m fine with not being called that stuff, you know?

Except Alex. It’s weird how he goes out of his way to call me handsome before he calls me hot. He squeezes my arm and says I’ve been getting stronger in a strange tone that makes me feel like shit. He tells me these things like both a compliment and a curse. I don’t know which one is worse.

Sometimes Alex will swing in the opposite direction, too. He’ll avoid calling me handsome or hot altogether. He’ll run his fingers through my hair and say he likes it long. His finger twirls a strand as he calls me cute, or hell, he even called me pretty one time. Even though this is the complete opposite to the way he treats me most of the time, it has the same effect on me. It still makes me feel like shit. I still think it comes from hatred.

Alex hates that I don’t initiate touch when we’re alone, but he also hates when I try so much as to even hold his hand when we’re outside. Alex hates when I take charge of anything in our relationship, even when he begged me to do so earlier. He flinches when I joke about myself being the man in the relationship. Alex hates me most when I call us boyfriends.

I think it’s obvious what exactly it is he hates about me, and us in general. And I guess I can’t blame him. He’s… new. You know what I mean? He’s, uh… working things out. No, that’s not what I’m trying to say. Alex is still working through the fact that he's [WHITE NOISE]—

Alex twitches in his sleep. His eyebrows furrow and his lips twist into a small frown. It’s such a small action, but I notice it so quickly while I desperately search for the word I'm trying to say.

The actual word sits on my tongue, but I can’t make myself say it. It’s a strange sensation. This should be more concerning. Why can’t I say this one word? I want to question it, but…

Oh, whatever. My thoughts are a fucking mess, as always. It doesn’t matter.

What does matter is that Alex can’t help but put me in his stupid fucking boxes just because he can’t figure his own stuff out. I bet he thinks it gives him some sense of control or whatever the hell. I’m not stupid, even if that’s what everyone thinks. I know it’s what he wants.

I’m supposed to go along with what he says. I’m the selfish liar who almost got everyone killed and has to accept his shit apologies. I’m the one he can criticize freely, from my impossible theories to my appearance. Always submit to his whims of adventure; reluctance is acceptable, even preferred. Just so long as I follow through. Defend him from attacks, take the kiss, and love him. I know this is the box he puts me in.

And I know what you’re thinking, too. You have your own little box for me.

Why the hell are you with this guy, Rory? You know he’s judging you. You know he’s trying to make you into something you’re not. Why do you even entertain him? Do you even love him?

…I don’t want to look for those answers. I guess I’m no better than Alex when it comes to that.

Alex heaves a sigh, and his body visibly relaxes. For a second, my heart skips a beat and my face gets way too warm and I hate that I still react this way around him. It’s humiliating, how I play into exactly what he likes without thinking. Alex always catches when I blush too hard or get awkward around him. He teases me. I swat him away. ‘You know you like it,’ he always says. I nod and sigh, ‘yeah, yeah, whatever, Alex.’

Truth is, I don’t always like it. I don’t always like Alex. I do most of the time, though. I guess that’s all he cares about, huh?

Without thinking, I reach my hand up to brush away a strand of red hair from Alex’s face. It’s not long enough to brush behind his ear, but I go through the motion regardless. It’s kind of cute, which is a thought that Alex would complain about if I ever said that to his face. I let myself think about it, anyway. It’s one little disobedient thought I allow myself to enjoy in the dead of night.

Besides, it’s not like Alex thinks about the things I want him to think about, either. I know that even when we’re together, his mind wanders off to whatever the woman of the week is. Sometimes it’s Sammy, sometimes it’s Vella. The Essentia is a new one. I see how his eyes wander and traps them in another cage of his.

Sometimes I get jealous of them. Which, yeah, I know, what a shitty fucking thing to feel. They’re not exactly being treated much better than I am. But even when I’m the one who gets to lie in bed with Alex, I know he’s thinking better things about them. I know he thinks he’d be better off with them than with me. The thought of them getting that kind of pedestal from Alex frustrates me in a sick way.

But it’s not their fault. It’s Alex who chases after them on his own whims. They are all so distant and yet that doesn’t stop him. They all have this weird fucking relationship with Alex that I don’t think I can replicate.

I find myself wanting to be like them. It’s a deep craving, one that aches in my soul. I search ONISM for clues about Sammy, and I wish that Alex would search for me the way that he searches for her. I look at the way Alex hounds Vella and I wonder what the hell I need to do to be like her. I see how the Essentia guides Alex in these stressful fucking times and I want to take her place instead of feeling so lost.

Pathetic, I know.

Alex stirs in his sleep. His arm on my waist tightens and he brings me closer to him. My heart pounds so loud in my chest that, combined with the aching, I might just fucking die. It’s unfair how I can still love him when I want to hate him.

It is times like these, where my thoughts are messy and only about us, that I wonder if our relationship is a mistake. If it is some sort of freak accident in our reality. I don’t think you can blame me for feeling that way. I feel out of place in Alex’s love. Sometimes it feels like I am fitting into the middle of a space that was never made for me.

That isn’t how relationships are supposed to be, right? This isn’t how love is supposed to burn. I’m not supposed to feel out of place in his arms. We shouldn’t be like this. We shouldn’t be together.

Was I ever meant to be here with him?

I carefully return to lie on my back, and I look around Alex’s room. Its walls feel smaller and more cramped than ever. The thoughts of us and our shitty situation and our terrible relationship build up inside me until I think I might just get up and leave. Let’s be real, it would make things so much easier. It would be for the best.

I try to sit up without moving Alex’s arms. I debate leaving without telling him. I think about my life without him. I think about escaping this cage. I think about being happy. These are thoughts I’m only allowed on nights like these. They’ve gotten so rare.

I need to leave him.

But then I feel Alex cling tighter onto my body, pulling me back to face him, and he lets out a choked-out whimper that’s so desperate and my heart aches all over again. Suddenly, I can’t leave, I can’t, I shouldn’t leave him, I love him so much, it’s not that bad it’s not—

I close my eyes, and I cast the thoughts of leaving out of my head. I ignore the closing square walls and the tight chains around my body. It’s not like I can’t handle it. I’ve gone through worse. I don’t mind the cage he puts me in. It makes us closer. Why should I leave it? I don’t think I want anything different, really. I don’t want us to be better. I want this.

I shuffle closer to Alex and gently kiss his lips. Somehow, it feels more like he was the one who pulled me into the kiss than me making the move. I don’t question it. I don’t miss how the corners of his lips twitch into a soft smile before disappearing into that peaceful, sleeping face. I don’t question it. I kiss his lips again, on my own accord, and I melt into Alex’s crushing embrace.

The thoughts of leaving are dim in the back of my Mind. I realize how dumb it all sounds. Just the mindless anxieties of some depressed kid. I don’t need to leave. I don’t want to, not really. I don’t think I could live without this. Without Alex.

I just hope with all my Soul that Alex knows the difference between lovers and cages.

#yiik #yiik: a postmodern rpg #rory mancer #alex yiik #my writing

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endlessbittersweetdreams · 1 year

Text

"Labor of Love" (Part 2)

SUMMARY: Jake and Lilah count down the days to the birth of their daughter. Continuation of "Broken & Beautiful."

Part 1

WARNINGS: Mentions of labor, childbirth and breastfeeding.

NOTES: Comments are greatly desired. I am a needy writer. 🙂

Well, I’ve made it to my ninth month of pregnancy. It’s June now, and we’re counting down the days until baby Maya’s estimated due date: the 21st. I’m on maternity leave, and I’m under the watchful gaze of a neighbor while Jake is at the restaurant. My adoptive mother moved to New York a few months ago, and she stops by when she can to help out as well. My neighbor, Jennifer, is one of the first people Jake and I befriended when we moved in. She and her husband, Michael, have a son who’s in the second grade. Jennifer, who works from home, has offered to babysit Maya when I go back to work. I hate the idea of not spending all day with Maya. In fact, I feel guilty. But I can’t afford to quit my job, either. It pays well, and the benefits aren’t too shabby.

It’s been wonderful, having Jennifer and Maggie in my life. They keep me company while Jake is at work, making sure that I don’t stay cooped up in the apartment all day. Jennifer has experience with pregnancy and childbirth, and so she’s here to advise me as much as possible. Maggie, meanwhile, tries to ease my fears about impending motherhood.

My doctor told me to stay active, and I do what I can as far as housekeeping tasks are concerned. On laundry day, my designated helper is in charge of taking the items down to the laundry room and bringing them back up when they’re ready. I insist on folding items, slipping clothes onto hangers, and putting everything away. As far as meal prep is concerned, my helper usually takes care of the cooking while I sit at the table and do what I can from there. Even Jake has stepped up in the meal prep department, as his cooking skills have improved. All he needed was a little time, some practice, and a lot of patience.

Jake hasn’t said much since our last encounter with Simone. He still has nightmares every now and then, but they’re much less frequent. Progress has been made, in that he now feels comfortable with telling me about some of them. They involve water, mostly. Cold, dark, turbulent waves sweep over him and engulf him. No matter how much he struggles, he finds himself swept away and pulled under. He is then dragged down further and further by an unseen figure that refuses to release him until, finally, he wakes up gasping for air and covered in sweat. If I happen to wake up during his tossing and turning, I’m ready to hold him and talk him through it until he falls asleep. It seems that even though he’s confronted Simone and removed her from his life, she still has a grip on him that manifests in these nightmares. It is my hope that one day, he will receive the closure he needs and that the torment she’s put him through will become a thing of the past.

In March, just a week after our run-in with Simone, Jake and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. Because we’ve been preparing for the arrival of our daughter, we decided to keep the celebration simple. We enjoyed a romantic candlelit dinner at home, opting to recreate the picnic we had on the night we first said “I love you,” to each other. After dinner, we exchanged gifts. Jake presented me with a beautiful gold locket and a bouquet of roses, while I gave him a set of “love coupons.” And then, as I was putting our dishes in the sink, Jake slinked up behind me and declared that the dishes could wait; he wanted to put one of his coupons to use. We spent the rest of the night locked away in our bedroom, and any doubts about my desirability were finally cast aside.

In April, my cousin Allison threw me a baby shower. Thanks to my friends and family members, Maya won’t be lacking in pacifiers, booties, blankets, onesies, cute little outfits, etc. And, thanks to Ari and Heather, there are a few post-maternity items to add to my closet.

Since we still live in a one-bedroom apartment, Jake and I have set up a nursery area in our bedroom. We know that there will come a day when we will have to move on to a bigger place. But for now, this will have to do. Maggie gave us a dresser that houses Maya’s clothing items, blankets, burping towels, supplies and accessories. On top of the dresser sits a changing basket, complete with liner. There’s just enough space left for a diaper caddy that has enough room for not just diaper changing supplies, but extra onesies and socks. The clothing that Maya will eventually grow into, meanwhile, is kept in a vacuum-sealed storage bag in our closet.

The wall to the left of our bedroom door houses a nook that is big enough for Maya’s crib, which Will helped Jake set up. While they were assembling the crib, I focused on decorating the nook. Since Maya is going to be a summer baby, it’s been decided that her nook will have a summertime theme. I found some adorable, colorful decals featuring bumblebees and flowers. Sometime after Maya’s birth, a picture of all three of us will be hung up in the middle of the nook.

Attached to the crib is a beautiful, multi-colored butterfly mobile that plays music that will hopefully lull Maya into a peaceful slumber. Near my side of the bed is a rocking chair, where Maya will be fed and rocked to sleep. There’s also enough room for a bassinet, which will also be on my side of the bed since there isn’t room for it anywhere else.

Why have both a bassinet and a crib? Well, for starters, I’m a first-time mom. I want a bassinet because I can keep Maya close to me, and it can be moved around the apartment when needed. I’m probably going to be one of those “Check on the baby every five minutes," moms. Finally, according to Jennifer and my OB, there’s a chance that Maya will sleep better in the bassinet as opposed to the larger, open space of the crib. But just in case it turns out that she’ll sleep better in the crib, it’s assembled and ready for her. And even if she does sleep well in the bassinet, at least the crib is set up for when she graduates into it.

At the end of May, I put together a bag to take to the hospital. With each day that passes by, I become more and more anxious. Because of this, I admit that I may be mildly obsessed with checking my hospital bag to make sure I’ve packed everything on my list. Jake has given up on assuring me that I haven’t forgotten something, knowing better than to argue with a nervous mom-to-be. If it helps to check the hospital bag once or twice a week, so be it. Besides, I just can’t seem to make up my mind when it comes to the onesie our little girl will come home in. It’s not my fault that there are so many cute options to choose from!

I zip up the bag and return it to its place by the door, walking (Or, in my state, more like waddling!) over to the sofa. Ever so carefully, I sit down next to Jake. Once my back support pillow is in place, I lean back against it with a sigh. My legs and feet are swollen now, which means that I have to put my feet up whenever possible. Thankfully, the coffee table is close enough for me to rest them on.

“What did you settle on this time?” Jake asks, his tone light and teasing.

“The one with the hearts,” I answer.

He reaches for my hand, entwining his fingers together with mine. “I know you’re nervous, babe. But you’re the strongest woman I know. You got this.”

“I hope so,” I answer tiredly. “I’m so ready to meet her. It’s just the labor and delivery thing that freaks me out. Ugh. Why did Hannah have to show us that video?” I cringe when I remember, in vivid detail, the images and sounds that I was confronted with during our last Lamaze class. I’m surprised I didn’t have nightmares after that experience. EESH!!

“Need anything?”

I shake my head. “I have my water. I have my pillow. I have you. I’m good. Just uncomfortable.”

I’m in what my doctor calls the lightening stage, which means that Maya has dropped lower. Not only does this mean that I’m approaching labor, but this also means that more pressure has been added to my pelvis, hips and bladder. At the moment, I don’t have to make yet another trip to the bathroom. That’s a relief. But the pressure on my pelvis and hips isn’t fun, in spite of the fact that I am now able to breathe a little easier.

It’s Jake’s day off, which means that we’ve been able to spend all day together. I’ve told him that if he wants to get out of the apartment and do something relaxing, I won’t stop him. But he insists on being here, just in case. Though he won’t admit it, I can see that he’s just as nervous as I am. I know him well enough to recognize the signs.

I’m bored, and I’m not in the mood to watch TV or read a book. And so, I ask Jake to hand me the photo book and box of pictures resting on his side of the coffee table. I remove the lid from the box, which is set down between us, and then I open up the photo book. I’ve been meaning to put this together for a while. The boredom that comes with maternity leave seems to have motivated me.

“I thought you were finished with that,” Jake comments.

I shake my head. “Nope. Just a few more pages to go,” I answer, reaching the page I’m searching for.

Jake picks up the box and begins to go through the pictures, most of which were taken by him. He pauses for a moment and then chuckles. “You took a picture of the pregnancy tests?”

“Yup!” I confirm, giving him a lopsided smile. “What? It was a big day. We found out that we’re going to be parents.” He shakes his head in amusement, and I lift my brow at him. “It’s not like I saved the tests. I’m not weird. Our hard work paid off, and I just want to memorialize the occasion.” I take the picture from him and put it back in its proper place.

“Hard work? I don’t remember you complaining.” He stretches out his arms a bit and puts his hands behind his head, using them as a pillow as he leans back. “In fact, I just remember a lot of ‘Yes, Jake! Yes! That’s the spot! Yes, yes! Don’t stop! I‘m almost there! I‘m almost there! I‘m there! I‘m there! I’m ... Aaahhh!’”

He gives me a smug look, and I swat him on the arm. “I’m not the one who says ‘Mmm ... Yeah, baby. You like that? Does that make you feel good? Come on. Come on, beautiful. Come for m --’”

Jake clamps a hand over my mouth. “Okay. I get your point.” He falls silent and, just when I think he’s backed down, he adds “At least I’m not the loud one. Remember the look the neighbors gave us that one morning? We still haven’t lived it down.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Jake, if you ever want to have sex with me again ... you’ll drop it.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”

I pull out a few pictures and begin to arrange them, trying to figure out a layout that pleases me. I linger on the photo that Jake took of yours truly with my band mates. It was taken on the last night I performed with them, shortly after I announced that I’m expecting. Once my doctor confirmed my pregnancy, I had some decisions to make. As much as I love singing with the band, I don’t feel safe performing in the bar right now. Customers get pretty rowdy, and I can’t risk my safety or the safety of my child. Not to mention the fact that the bar smells get to me. It’s hard to perform while dealing with “pops up whenever it damn well pleases,” sickness.

Jake watches as I add the photo to the picture book. “You miss performing. Don’t you?”

I nod. “I do. I talked to Chuck the other day. I wanted to thank him and his wife for the present for Maya. He says that the band wants me to come back when I’m ready.”

“Are you going to take them up on their offer?”

“I’m thinking about it. I mean, it would only be one or two Saturday’s a month. You know, if you don’t count practice.”

“If it’s something you want to do, I’ll support you.”

I set the photo book aside and lean over to kiss Jake. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You hungry?”

“Yeah. Jennifer brought over a casserole.”

“One casserole, coming up.”

Thanks to my belly and my need to sleep on my side, Jake and I have had to adjust to different sleeping arrangements. At my baby shower, Jennifer gifted me with a body pillow that gives me the support and comfort I need to get a decent night’s sleep. Our mutual love language is touch, which means that Jake and I are very much into cuddling. I crave the warmth and safety of Jake’s arms, while he finds comfort in having my body so close to his own. I may be bigger right now, but that’s doesn’t mean that we’ve changed our routine. It just means that we have to make some adjustments. Because of my belly and my need for the body pillow, there are nights when I am the middle of a human/pillow sandwich. It took some time to get used to, but I’ve found that I sleep better with Jake spooning me while I snuggle up against the body pillow. Just as long as we don’t get too warm, this arrangement seems to work for the both of us.

Jake and I are in bed when I begin to feel that there is definitely something going on. Thinking that this is another “Braxton Hicks moment,” I switch positions to see if the contractions will stop. I’m about ready to go back to sleep when I feel the sensation again, and I maneuver myself to my previous position. A few minutes later, I realize that these are definitely not Braxton Hicks contractions. For one thing, they’re not stopping. In fact, they seem to be coming at regular intervals. And while the Braxton Hicks are usually felt in the front of my belly, these contractions start in the back and move to the front.

Yeah! This is definitely not false labor.

I’m not exactly sure what I should do. Jake is still sound asleep, and I don’t know if I should let him be or if I should wake him. I mean, the contractions aren’t so close together that I know it’s time to go to the hospital. But I know that I’m in labor now, and I’m going to need him.

I look over at the clock on my nightstand, seeing that it’s 8:00 am. Okay. Well, I suppose it’s not too early to wake him up. My decision made, I push my body pillow aside and turn to face my husband. I know from experience that touching him gently on the bicep or stomach usually does the trick. I made this discovery shortly after we became intimate, and it’s become my signal to let him know that I’m in the mood. I don’t even have to apply that much pressure. Just the slightest touch, and he’s awake. And so, nibbling on my bottom lip, I reach out and lay a hand on his bicep. I gently stroke his skin with my thumb and quietly speak his name, watching as he begins to stir.

He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at me, blinking sleepily. “You’re awake,” he says, his voice rough from sleep.

“I am,” I confirm with a smile.

He turns onto his side and props himself up on his elbow. “What time is it?”

“A little after 8:00.”

He furrows his brows. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just that ... it’s time.”

In his groggy state, he isn’t catching on to what I mean. “You’re in the mood?” He pauses, giving me a grin. “Not that I’m complaining. Just, umm ... give me a minute and --”

I laugh gently. “No. Jake, I’m having contractions. Real, actual contractions.”

He stares at me for a few seconds, and then his ocean blue eyes widen. Now he gets it. He springs into action, tugging on his jeans as he sits on the edge of the bed. “How far apart are they?” he asks, reaching for the shirt he discarded last night.

“Jake, calm down. They’re not close enough for us to go anywhere.”

Jake slips into his shirt and then pauses, turning to look at me. His lips are in that pout that I love, and he’s looking me up and down. I’m not sure, but he’s either annoyed or confused. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell with him.

Now I feel guilty. “I’m sorry I woke you. I just ... thought you should know,” I explain with a shrug.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s all right." He takes a few moments to yawn and then run a hand over his face, and then he scoots closer to me. “Are you all right?”

“I’m okay. I mean, they’re pretty mild right now. But ... this is definitely it, Jake.” We share a brief kiss, and I’m beaming. “She’s on her way.”

During the early stage of labor, Jake and I try to relax as much as we can. My OB, Dr. Powell, said that early labor tends to last a while. So unless something goes wrong, Jake and I do not have to rush to the hospital just yet. We keep ourselves occupied by not only tracking my contractions, but by doing some simple routines around the apartment. When my level of discomfort increases, Jake is here to rub my shoulders and remind me to take calming breaths.

Finally, it reaches the point when it’s time for us to make our way to the hospital. Jake has just opened the apartment door when the contractions hit again. We come to a stop for a few moments as I focus on taking calming breaths, taking hold of Jake’s hand as the wave passes over me. I let out one last calming breath and then slowly straighten up, nodding when Jake asks if I’m ready to go. He bends down to grab the car seat and then slings the hospital bag over his shoulder. Then he guides me into the hallway, locking the door behind us. We encounter Michael in the hallway, and he’s kind enough to carry the car seat as he follows us down the stairs.

It doesn’t take us long to hail a cab, and the driver sets the car seat and hospital bag up front. Meanwhile, Jake helps me into the cab and slides in next to me. He wraps an arm around my shoulders as he hands the cabbie a wad of cash to “Get us to the fucking hospital as fast as fucking possible.” His words. Not mine.

I lean against Jake, his scent and warmth keeping me calm as the driver navigates NYC traffic. I don’t know how long it takes. Far as I’m concerned, it feels like hours. We finally arrive at the hospital, where I’m helped into a wheelchair by a nurse whose name I’ll never remember. While I’m wheeled inside, Jake retrieves the car seat and the hospital bag. A few seconds later, he meets me at the nurses’ station and hands over the folder containing my pre-registration forms.

I’m so glad I heeded Dr. Powell’s advice and filled out these forms. I can’t imagine trying to complete them at the last-minute while in the throes of another set of contractions. This pain not only distracts me, but it makes me highly agitated. So it’s a good thing I don’t have a clipboard in hand, because it would probably end up chucked in the direction of one of the nurses.

Eventually, we’re taken to a private room on the third floor. Most of my dignity is taken away when I have to change into a hospital gown. It’s one with ties in the back, which means my ass is exposed. I understand the practicality of the gown, of course. I’m just glad my lower half will be hidden under blankets. And if I have to get up and walk around, I packed a robe for the occasion. Once I’m helped onto the hospital bed, an IV is inserted into my vein. Not fun, but necessary. I’m also hooked up to monitors that keep track of my vitals, as well as Maya’s.

Once the poking and prodding session is over, Jake and I are left alone in the room. He hasn’t stopped holding my left hand since the IV was placed, and he brings it up to his lips for a kiss. Now that things have settled down for a while, and I’m not in the middle of a contraction, I can appreciate the gesture. Courtesy of the fetal monitor, we can hear Maya’s heartbeat. As far as we can tell, she’s doing fine. I’m soothed by the sound of my daughter’s heartbeat, combined with the warmth of Jake’s hand.

“We should let everyone know what’s going on,” I comment.

Jake nods and then releases my hand, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. I watch as he types out a mass text message, sending it out to our friends and family. He stuffs the phone back into his pocket and then takes my hand in his again. It doesn’t take long before I hear the quiet pinging sound that indicates that he’s receiving responses, and he reads each one to me. Shortly after he reads the message from Allison, my progress is checked and I’m asked the big question: Do I want an epidural, or would I prefer to experience natural childbirth? Up until today, I had been undecided. After some careful consideration, I’ve chosen to go without an epidural.

We’re left alone again, and I exchange a look with Jake. He rubs the back of my hand in a small circular pattern, picking up on my nervousness. “Jake, what did I just agree to?”

“You want me to call her back in?”

I think about it for a moment, shaking my head. “No. I don’t want the meds to affect Maya.” I take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Not because I’m experiencing a contraction, but because I’m freaking out. “I’ll be okay. Just promise me something.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ve got your back.”

I smile at him. “I know. That’s not what I was going to say.” He gestures for me to go on. “When the big moment comes, and I’m pushing her out ... don’t blame me if I hurt your hand. And whatever I say, don’t hold it against me. No matter how many nasty things I say to you. I won’t mean any of them.”

He laughs a little. How sweet! He thinks I’m kidding.

I reach for his hand, running my thumb over his wedding band. “But seriously ... no matter how much I yell and scream at you, I want you to know I love you ... and that I’m glad we’re doing this. This pregnancy hasn’t been easy for either one of us. You’ve been my rock, and I’m so glad you’re here.”

He gives me another smile. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

In the early hours of June 18th, our baby girl is close to making her grand entrance into the world. Jake is holding my hand throughout the experience, even when I squeeze a little too hard. I knew giving birth would be difficult and painful, but I had no idea how much work it would take to push a tiny human being out of me. The pain isn’t like anything I’d imagined, and I’ve been told that I’ll forget all about it when I’m holding Maya in my arms.

“I can’t do this ANYMORE!!”

“Yes, you can. Baby, you have to,” Jake says from his place beside me.

“Don’t you DARE tell me what to do! You’re not the boss of me! Get the fuck away from me!”

I narrow my eyes into a nasty, venom-filled glare when I hear the nurse say to Jake “Don’t worry. She doesn’t mean a word of it. It’s just the pain.” Oh! So now a total stranger thinks she can speak for me? You’ve got to be kidding.

I have no idea how long I have been pushing, but it seems like an eternity. And I have to tell you this: I have grown tired of being reminded to breathe, being ordered to “keep that chin down,” and being told that I need to “push just a little bit harder.” I’m giving it all I have, people! I’m using all the “umph," I have! What more do you want from me? The only thing that is preventing me from kicking the doctor is the fact that I need her to deliver my child. That, and I’m too focused on trying to push a human being out of me. Otherwise, my foot would meet her face.

Yeah! Turns out, extreme pain unleashes my violent streak. Who knew?

“Jake!! If you tell me to breathe one more time, I’m going to break your wrist!!!” I snarl through gritted teeth, just before I squeeze his hand again and push with everything I’ve got.

A few more pushes later, and her head is finally out. While I’m trying to recover from that experience, I’m told to hold off on pushing until the doctor says otherwise. I have no idea what the doctor and nurse are doing, as my eyes are closed and I’m breathing my way through contractions. I also mutter a few colorful words, followed by a quick apology to Jake. He tells me that I don’t have to apologize, and I can hear excitement in his voice as he tells me that Maya has “a lot of hair.” And then, the doctor tells me to get ready to push again.

After an insane amount of pain and hard work, Maya Elizabeth Jade Holt enters the world. I let myself fall back onto the bed, exhausted and relieved. I’m drenched with sweat and panting, but deliriously happy. While the doctors tend to our newborn daughter, Jake wipes my brow with a cool cloth and presses a few kisses to my lips. All he can talk about is how strong I am, how proud he is of me, and how beautiful our little girl is.

A few moments later, my exhaustion and pain are forgotten when our precious daughter is placed on my chest. Holding her gently, tears streaming down my face, I notice the dark hair on her head. I don’t know what color her eyes will be, but so far she takes after her father in the looks department. She begins to cry a bit, and I gently stroke her cheek and talk softly to her.

“Hello, Maya. It’s me. I’m your momma.” I sniffle a bit. “It’s so good to see you, beautiful girl. I love you so much. Happy birthday.” Maya squirms a bit and quiets down, seeming to recognize my voice. I look up at Jake, who’s absolutely beaming. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile like this since our wedding day, when he saw me walk down the aisle. “Jake, you’re a dad.”

He seems to be at a loss for words. Instead, he lets out a little laugh and reaches out to softly stroke her head. It’s like he needs to touch her, just to prove that she’s really here.

“It’s time to cut the cord, Jake,” the doctor announces.

Jake gives her a nod and, after two snips, the cord is severed. My snuggling session with Maya is interrupted when she’s gently whisked away for a brief health exam. She’s not too happy about being temporarily separated from me, as evidenced by her loud cries. She’s certainly not shy about making her voice heard. I’ll give her that! I can’t see what’s going on, but every now and then I can hear Jake talking to her softly. I hear him make the comment that “She has a good grip,” and so I assume that she’s grabbed onto his finger.

After being weighed and measured, she is finally handed over to Jake. He seems to be a little nervous, having never held someone so tiny and fragile. But he soon adjusts, looking very much like the proud father he is. He steps closer to me and chuckles when Maya takes hold of his pinky again. “The nurse says she seems to be perfectly healthy. Seven pounds, two ounces. Nineteen and a half inches long." Maya squirms a little bit, making those adorable sounds I’ve already fallen in love with. “She just opened her eyes,” Jake proudly announces.

“What color are they?”

“Kind of a grayish blue.”

I’ve been told that Maya’s eye color will change over time, and so it’s too early to determine what the final result will be. But if she takes after her father, I won’t mind at all. He has beautiful eyes.

“I think she has your mouth,” he comments.

“And your hair.” Jake hands her back to me and, after some assistance from the nurse, Maya has her first feeding. I begin to tear up again, my voice wavering a bit. “Look at who we made, Jake. She’s perfect.”

I feel him lay a hand on my head, lightly stroking my hair. He leans down to press a kiss to my temple. “She’s beautiful, Lilah. Just like you.”

A few hours later, after getting some rest and seeing to it that Maya is fed again, I’m feeling up for visitors. I’m still tired, and my body is definitely feeling the after-effects of childbirth. Still, I look forward to introducing Maya to her extended family. Allison, Will and Maggie are the first to meet her. Will laughs as his goddaughter grabs hold of his finger, grinning down at her. Seems she’s won another person over.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m Will. Yes, I am. Yes, I am.”

“Oh, no. He’s doing the baby talk thing,” Jake comments, grinning at Will when he looks up at him.

Shaking his head, Will returns his gaze to Maya. “Well, I can’t help it. No, I can’t. You know why? ‘Cause you’re the cutest widdle baby. Yes, you are. And guess what? When your mom and dad bring you to the restaurant, your meal is on the house. Know why? ’Cause your godfather is the manager. Yes, he is.”

“Hey! Why is her meal free?” I give Will a mock-glare. “I’m the one who did all the hard work to get her here.”

Will shrugs, grinning at me. “Sorry. She’s just ... She’s so cute.”

“Cute? She’s adorable. So tiny!” Allison interjects. “I could put her in my purse!”

“What do you think of your granddaughter, Maggie?” I ask.

Maggie gives me a surprised look. She hasn’t said anything about it. But up until now, I assume she didn’t know exactly how she’d fit into Maya’s life. Maya is carefully transferred over to Maggie’s arms, and I can tell that she’s fallen in love as well. “She’s perfect.”

Will is the last of the three to hold Maya, but the moment is cut short when he looks up at the clock. “Guess it’s time for me to go. The restaurant won’t manage itself,” he laments, looking down at Maya again. “I’ll see you later, kiddo.” Reluctantly, he returns her to my arms and leans down to give me a kiss on the forehead. He reaches out to give Maya a little tickle under the chin. “Congratulations, guys. She’s beautiful.” On the way out, he pats Jake on the shoulder a few times. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

Jake furrows his brows at Will. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Once the door is closed, I look down at Maya. “So what do you think of Will?” She looks up me with her blue-grey eyes, cooing a little. “Yeah. I like him, too.”

A few minutes later, we hear a soft knock on the door. Heather is the first to enter the room, followed by Ari, Sasha and Tess. I give them a tired smile when I see that they’ve brought flowers and some stuffed animals, and Jake directs them to put them by the windowsill with the other gifts. Heather leans down to give me a hug and asks how I’m doing, and I give her the same response I gave to my previous visitors.

“Tired and sore, but deliriously happy. Thanks for coming, you guys.”

Sasha walks over to me, shaking his head. “You look horrible, Angel.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You would, too, if you went through what I did. Turns out that childbirth isn’t easy.”

“That’s no excuse for looking shabby. And that hospital gown does nothing for you.”

“For your sake, I’ll forget you said that." I gently adjust Maya in my arms so my friends can take a good look at her.

Jake sits down next to me on the other side of the bed, smiling proudly as he announces “Guys, we’d like you to meet Maya Elizabeth Jade Holt.”

“Who wants to be the first to hold her?” I ask.

Ari and Sasha opt out, preferring to give Maya their attention while she’s in the arms of someone else. I’ve known for a while that they’re not necessarily “baby people," which means their response isn’t surprising. Now, it’s between Tess and Heather. After using some hand sanitizer, Tess steps forward. Maya lets out what I call a “squeakel” (squeak + squeal) as she’s transferred to Tess’s arms, and I give my former co-worker a smile when she looks nervous.

“Don’t worry. She’s fine. She’s just saying ‘hi’. Just remember to support her head.”

Tess gives me a nod, staring down at my daughter. “She’s so tiny.” Ever the curious one, she looks up at me. “What was it like?”

“Do you really want to know?” Tess just stares back at me, and I think about it for a moment. How, exactly, do you put that kind of pain into words? Then it hits me. “You ever see Look Who’s Talking, Tess?” She nods. “You remember what Kirstie Alley said about the watermelon and the lemon?” Again, she nods. “It really is like that.”

My female friends stare at me in horror, while Sasha cringes. “Eesh! No need to be so graphic.”

Tess passes Maya over to Heather, who sways a bit as Maya begins to fuss. Sasha does the chin tickle thing and immediately dubs Maya “Baby Angel.” Then he looks me up and down in mock disappointment. “So I guess this means we have to stop calling you Waddles now.”

I laugh a little. “I told you to stop calling me that a long time ago.”

He waves me off. “Since when have I ever listened to you?” I open my mouth to retort, but shut it again when Sasha’s focus is clearly on Maya. I can’t quite make out everything he’s saying to her. Only that it sounds like more baby talk with a few Russian words thrown into the mix.

“I still can’t believe you two have one of these,” Heather comments as Maya coos away. “She looks like you, Jake.”

Jake grins proudly. “You think so?”

“You’ll never get your figure back, Angel.” Sasha lets out one of his over-dramatic cries when Ari punches him in the arm. “Ow! Stop hitting me!”

“Shut the fuck up, Sasha!” Ari gives me a flirtatious smile. “Ignore the idiot. You’ll go back to looking hot in no time.”

I frown. “Gee! Thanks.”

“I have to go," Tess announces, leaning down to give me a brief hug. “She’s beautiful, guys.” Jake and I give her our thanks, and she waves goodbye to the both of us as she follows Ari and Sasha out of the room.

“She really is,” Heather agrees, handing Maya over to Jake. “Great job, you two.” She then turns her attention to Maya. “And you, little girl ...” I wait for her to say something profound, like she usually does. Instead, she says “One day, when you’re old enough, I’ve got some crazy stuff to tell you about your mom and dad.”

Jake and I exchange a look, and he says “After you run those stories by us. Right?”

Heather doesn’t say anything. She just gives us a wink and a smirk. And then she’s gone, closing the door behind herself.

I look down at Maya. “Well, sweetheart, that’s your family. I know they seem a little ... odd. But they love you.” I give her a kiss on the head and then hand her over to Jake.

He leans down and gives me a kiss on the lips. “I love you. Thanks for making me a dad.”

I give him a sleepy smile, touched by his words. “I love you, too. Thanks for making me a mom.”

He grins back, and I watch as he carefully sits down in the chair. The last thing I see, just before my eyes slide shut and sleep takes over, is Jake smiling down at our daughter.

Jake’s POV

By the time I return to our apartment in Williamsburg, it’s a little after 11:00. The apartment is dark, save for the light in the hallway. Figuring that Lilah is asleep, I try to be as quiet as possible. I leave my shoes by the door and hang up my hoodie, and then make my way to the bedroom door. I push it open slowly and step inside, smiling at what I see.

Lilah is sitting in the chair, gently rocking back and forth with Maya in her arms. I’m sure she’s exhausted, but she looks content as she sings a song to our daughter. I know it sounds corny, but I think I love her even more than I did before. Maya, as usual, is awake and squirming away. When Lilah was pregnant, Maya was more active at night. Her night owl streak usually kicked in after 10:00 and lasted until 11:30 or midnight. Seems she’s sticking to her routine.

I approach them, and Lilah gives me a tired smile. “Hi, babe. How was work?”

We share a brief kiss, and I sit down on the bed. Giving her a shrug, I answer “Same as always. That kinky couple, Gabe and Giselle, showed up.”

“Uh-oh. Who’d they go after this time?”

“Alex,” I answer, referring to the bartender who’s filling in for Lilah. “They said he ‘has the body of a Greek god’. I guess they offered to pay him $5,000.”

“Nice to know they’re staying consistent. Did he accept?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. He took their card.” I reach out to touch my daughter’s head, gently brushing my fingers over her hair. “How were things with the night owl?”

Maya is two weeks old, as of today. We came home with her two days after she was born, and it’s been an adjustment for both of us. I took a week off of work so I could help Lilah and bond with our daughter, and I dreaded the day when I had to go back to work.

“Fine. Jennifer came over for a visit. She can’t believe how quiet Maya is. She only cried a few times, and then she conked out for a bit. I gave her a bath and then put her to bed at 8:00, and she woke up at 10:00 and had a late-night snack. Fell asleep right after I changed her. She just woke up. Maybe she knew her dad was coming home. Wanna take her?”

I nod and move off of the bed, and Lilah carefully transfers Maya into my arms. Lilah gets up and moves over to the bed, making herself comfortable under the covers. I look down at Maya, who’s staring up at me. “Will you look at what you did to your poor mother? You wore her out.” Lilah’s eyes are already starting to become heavy, and I figure now would be a good time to step out. “Let’s take this party to the living room,” I say to Maya.

After saying goodnight to Lilah, I leave the room with Maya. Closing the door behind myself, I creep down the hallway and step into the kitchen. Then I grab something to drink and sit down on the sofa with my daughter. She begins to fuss a little, and I’m pretty sure I know what the problem is.

“Okay, Maya. I know what you want. Don’t have to tell me twice.” I rearrange her so that she’s now held out in front of me, just below my chest. My hands keep her safe and secure, and she eventually quiets down. “All good?” She quiets down after a while, looking up at me again. “Just wanted to see me better. Didn’t you? Yeah. I thought so. You know, everyone at work has been asking about you. Maybe one day, your mom and I will show you where we work. I bet you’d like that. You know, if someone had told me that I’d be a married man and a dad, I would have said they were crazy. But here I am. And do you know why? It’s because your mom gave me a chance. For some reason, she chose me. Not only that, but she gave me you. Not bad for someone like me.”

I turn my attention to the bookcase across from me, and the photograph of my favorite tree in France. On the night when Lilah and I decided to try for a baby, I told her that fatherhood had been on my mind ever since my trip to France. It wasn’t until I’d experienced a real, committed, loving relationship with Lilah that I felt safe enough to think about the future. But I knew that I couldn’t pursue what I wanted - couldn’t even discuss it with Lilah - until I worked through my issues and cleaned up my act. I had a lot of growing up to do, and I credit Lilah for helping me through it. She stood by me through it all, encouraging me and giving me a shove when I needed it, and that only further cemented my knowledge that she’s the one I want to be with.

I pause for a few seconds. “Look, kid. I gotta be honest with you. I don’t know what kind of a dad I’ll be. My dad skipped out of town when I was born, and the man who adopted me ... Well, let’s just say he was more interested in golf than in raising kids. Anyway, the point is: I’m new at this. I know I’ll make mistakes. There’ll be times when I’ll drive you crazy. But I want to be the dad you need me to be. I want to give you a better life than the one I was given. I want you to feel safe, and I don’t want you to worry that your mom and I won’t be there for you. We’re pretty new at this parenting thing, but we’re going to do our best. ‘Cause we love you. So, don’t be too hard on us. Deal?”

I stay up with Maya until she falls asleep. Carefully, hoping she won’t feel my movements, I get up off of the sofa and creep down the hallway. Thanks to the dim light coming from the lamp on Lilah’s nightstand, I’m able to navigate my way to Maya’s bassinet. I set her down gently, cringing a bit when she seems to wake up, and then breathe a quiet sigh when she settles down. Lilah seems to be sound asleep under the covers, and so I quietly make my way over to my side of the bed. It’s a warm night, and so I discard my shirt and strip down to my boxers before I crawl into bed.

My head barely hits the pillow when I feel Lilah move next to me. She scoots closer to me, and I move my arm to accommodate her. She settles down with her head on my chest, her hand resting on my stomach as she lets out a happy sigh. She no longer wears perfume, both for her sake and for Maya’s. But her hair still smells like lavender and vanilla, thanks to the shampoo she used, and the scent is intoxicating. I’m not sure, but I think my heart has just skipped a beat at the familiar, comfortable sensation of her skin pressed against mine. God, I love this woman!

“Everything go okay?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah. We hung out for a little bit, and then she passed right out.”

“See? She just wanted some quality time with her dad.” I chuckle a bit, smiling when Lilah presses her lips to my shoulder and collarbone before she settles down again. “You’re a good dad, Jake ... and a good man. Maya and I are lucky to have you.”

I breathe in the scent of Lilah’s hair, gently stroking her arm as she falls asleep.

No, Lilah. I’m the lucky one.

@anastacia-lynn

@mypsychoticlove

@kimmyiewrites

#jake x oc sweetbitter #jake & lilah #sweetbitter jake #jake sweetbitter #tom sturridge sweetbitter #sweetbitterstarz #sweetbitter tv series #sweetbitter fanfiction #tom sturridge #broken & beautiful sweetbitter fic

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pynkhues · 10 months

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What is your take on the recent trend of including POC actors in shows like Bridgerton, Hamilton, etc.? I feel conflicted about it...ie. Bridgerton is supposed to be escapist fantasy, but the existence of the upper classes at that time in England was predicated on a highly unequal society, the subjugation of the lower classes, and also colonialism/the UK's involvement in the slave trade. And so I feel like having POC actors kind of washes over all of that? And similarly with Hamilton, the founding fathers were literally slave owners, and having them portrayed by POC just sort of sweeps that under the rug. I'm all for diversity in TV/media but I feel like the recent trend is having POC actors play characters that are themselves oppressors, like very much the sort of hollow Obama era representation politics (despite drone strikes, record number of deportations, etc.) What do you think?

Funnily enough, I've actually been thinking about this a bit since I saw the Australian production of Hamilton earlier in the year and had, y'know, Thoughts on it.

Look, full disclaimer immediately - I'm white, and I'm Australian, and so my opinion of all of this matters very little, but I did feel Some Sort of Way about the production here casting many lead roles with First Nations actors and having them sing about being immigrants in a country they're from, and a country that's still currently in the Commonwealth. Hamilton is a Civil War and Independence narrative! And to cast First Nations actors in those roles in a country still technically under British rule lowkey broke my brain, but again, look, I don't think it's my place to comment on that.

But it does kind of lead into this whole factor of context, right?

Hamilton worked in the US, and while I'm not the biggest Lin-Manuel Miranda fan, it does seem to me that he set out with the right intentions when making that very specifically American production. Threading the modern immigrant experience and modern racism into the quote-unquote American Quilt by recasting key historical figures with non-white actors is, I think, saying something. It's not without it's baggage, of course it's not - those men were themselves slave owners and the narrative he builds is romanticised to put it lightly - and it's absolutely fair if people have an issue with that, but I also think using race bending to pull on thematic throughlines and create relevance and resonance with people today is of admirable intent, even if it doesn't always land.

If nothing else, it starts a conversation.

Things like Bridgerton, Anne Boleyn, Mr. Malcolm's List - - I think the conversation's a broad one. I think when it leans into the full fantasy of itself like the second season of Bridgerton or Mr. Malcolm's List it's just good fun, and I love seeing POC cast in roles where they get to wear beautiful things and lean into a bit of cheese, but I do think when the stories try to be inherently capital-p Political, it does become an issue. Doing that divorces the story of the fantasy, and intrducing reality means - - well. It has to be Addressed.

One of the reasons I struggle so much with s1 of Bridgerton is the heavy, graceless hand it takes to Queen Charlotte and King George's racebent wedding as Having Solvied Racism, which we all know is absurd, but that does tend to be the approach with racebent historical fiction. It's the explanation that diminishes the racism of the era, not the story itself.

As a result, in shows and movies that do operate in a realm of fantasy like Bridgerton, maybe it's okay just to let the hot people kiss a lot and not bog it down in discourse.

Which again does thread back to intent. As much as Bridgerton likes to be a hand-wavy mess about it all, I do think they're at least trying something out in terms of the genre, whereas I think something like, say, the Anne Boleyn series with Jodie Turner-Smith was setting her up to experience horrific levels of online abuse in an adaptation that was never going to be seen as remotely authentic in order for them to score a few woke points and get new views on a story that's been told a zillion times before. I think Jodie Turner-Smith probably was excited about being offered that role, and I think they probably saw her as a marketing device, both for better and for worse, and I think the show treating her race as invisible when they knew casting her would be the opposite is cruel, shallow and opportunistic.

So yes, I guess I'd say overall I think context is important, not just in the sense of the stories that are being told, but the choices creatives make along the way (including the broader social context of where you make something, perhaps), but I also love to see stories - particularly romance - getting more diverse.

But! Bringing it back to Bridgerton, Khadija Mbowe did a good segment on it, so I hope you don't mind me sharing that here too:

youtube

#welcome to my ama

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creepy-spooghetti · 1 year

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hey if you don't mind could I get a Creepypasta matchup?

I'm Transmasc

I'm bisexual

I often wear a hoodie and jeans.

I am in INFP and Cancer (Zodiac)

I really like drawing but I'm bad at it.

I'm 5'3.

I'm really shy, but if I am comfortable with you I can be loud and chaotic.

I'm really kind and love helping people!

I love jokes and tell them a lot

I laugh easily I like animals and being around them (including bugs!)

I also like reading from time to time.

I get cold easily.

I like watching Spongebob and Regular Show.

I have anxiety and social anxiety.

I have PTSD

I like to play games I prefer Animal Crossing, Pokemon or Rhythm games.

I really like Punk Pop, Pop or Rock music.

My favorite musical artists are, Mitski, Jack Stauber, Twenty-one Pilots, Hollywood Undead, Cavetown and Green Day

I listen to Lofi music to calm down

Also, can I be called Frost Anon?

You sure can, Frost Anon :D

I match you with...

Jeff!

Jeff, at first, wasn't very interested in you. You were cute and all, but that kinda attitude never really drew him in.

That was until he came back from a mission one day with an injured arm, and since Jack wasn't there to assist him, he had to try to doctor and wrap it himself. You noticed his obvious struggling and stepped over to offer your help, and a little startled, he allowed you to take the reigns.

He couldn't figure out why you would go out of your way to do this for him, when you probably had plenty of other - more important - things to tend to. When you were finished, he blinked down at you, muttered a hesitant, "uhh...thanks", and you gave a meek grin in response.

He kind of started seeing you differently after that event, and he couldn't quite decipher why.

All he knew was that suddenly, he noticed your presence whenever you walked into the room, he'd listen to what you were saying at all times, and he even began to snort at the little jokes you told, even if some of them were cheesy. He did this quietly, of course, but you didn't fail to note it.

And one day, he saw you giving his good boy Smile the affection he deserves, and his heart melted. That was when he realized that he definitely might have had a teensy eensy crush on you.

This 'crush' only evolved as time progressed, and he decided maybe it would be worth his time to get to know you, so that's exactly what he did.

A bit abrasively, sure, but what more can you expect from Jeff?

The moment you first giggled at a snarky, off-handed comment he made about one of the other residents was the moment he felt a new kind of accomplishment.

He adored how you sounded when you laughed - especially because of him - so he made a viable effort to get that reaction out of you whenever he had a chance. It made his pride swell every time he succeeded.

He didn't bother using small talk to get closer to you, nor did he use typical flirting tactics - he simply acted like himself (perhaps dialed back a bit so you wouldn't be overwhelmed), as Jeff is capable of being no other way. Thankfully, this worked in his favor.

Liu convinced him that you were receptive to his, uh...advances? And told him to just go for it, as the worst thing that could happen was rejection.

He begrudgingly took his advice and sorta just blurted out a confession while the two of you were in the middle of watching TV.

"Yeah, uh, by the way, I like you a lot I think."

It was a bit startling but you were flattered nonetheless.

As a boyfriend, Jeff is surprisingly mature. He isn't needy or possessive, and he rarely gets jealous to a concerning extent, unless you just intentionally throw yourself at another attractive individual.

It's often overshadowed by his tendency to be brash and easily annoyed, but when his walls are down, he can be rather sweet, and you and his brother are really the only ones that have access to this hidden side of him.

When a chill sweeps your body, he will not hesitate to wrap you in a blanket burrito and then proceed to take a picture of you, where he'll then make it his screen saver. And he'll swaddle you tightly too - like, you have to fight to escape the blanket's grasp, and he'll either sit there and watch in amusement or leave you alone to your own devices.

Honestly, he was a very big Spongebob fan when he was a kid, so he will eagerly flop down onto the couch next to you when it turns on, singing along to the intro in the dumbest pirate voice he can muster.

Despite his normally light-spirited personality, he can get serious when the moment calls for it. When you get anxious, have a panic attack, get flashbacks, or have a nightmare, he is there to help in whatever way he possibly can.

He's not an expert by any means at comforting people, but he will do his absolute best to talk you down, keep his tone soft, reassure you that everything's okay, and offer physical contact when it's needed. He doesn't like seeing you genuinely upset, over anything, so puts an extra amount of effort into making sure you're alright.

He was never really into video games, but you got him hooked on Animal Crossing, and now he can legit spend hours playing it at a single time.

Like you try to drag him away and he's just like, "yeah yeah, in a minute" and will be there for another three hours if you let him.

It isn't his fault the game's so freaking addictive!

If you ever happen to fall asleep with him, beware. This man is a snorer.

He claims he isn't, of course, but that doesn't magically make it true.

I also hope you like being scared outta your wits from time to time because Jeff will certainly deliver on that.

#matchups #creepypasta #jeff the killer #creepypasta matchup

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goldenguillotines · 1 year

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(This is a lot srry) 2, 8, 11, 36, 41, and 42 for Navika please

02. What is one of your character’s biggest insecurities? Are they able to hide it easily or can others easily exploit this weakness?

Surprisingly, his biggest insecurity is his fins/gills. You wouldn't genuinely guess but he doesn't find them appealing and he does wish he didn't have to see them. He takes care not to listen to others when they do comment on his sea dweller status and he doesn't seem to respond to others picking at him like that. You wouldn't know that he struggles with that part due to his confidence. He doesn't crack at all under pressure from others.. or perhaps he could. It would just be an interesting case

08. What is, perhaps, their biggest flaw? Are they aware of this or oblivious to it?

I think Navika is aware how cold and distant he can be. While he is a caring person to the right people, he can come off as callous... he isn't interested in relations. So what reason to maintain them. His gentlemanly behavior can't mask that completely but makes it easier to digest. He makes it rather 'professional' but it's still a backhand nonetheless.

11. What is something that would make your character fly into a rage?

It does take Navika a whole lot to actually be spun into rage. He is incredibly careful and regulated... but he finds it taxing. He is not the same as he was.. and he had moved past his rage. Though, hypothetically, the only thing that might send him in a frenzy is having someone of his affections/care threatened or having them come too close for comfort to someone he cares for. There is an immediate tone shift and a way he tenses and his gaze turns harsh enough to kill. He would immediately approach and make it clear to that person. They aren't welcome. If they don't take the hint? He certainly makes sure he puts his foot down

36. Does your character have any medical conditions? Are they serious or minor? Do they affect their day to day life?

I believe there are a lot of problems Navika has from the experimental drugs that he's been forced to take over the sweeps along with his service. Navika has a variety of ailments (ones I don't know the specifications/medical terminology yet B]) all ranging from mild to severe. The most common seems to be him unable to breath, severe coughing episodes that result in him coughing out blood and occasionally loosing consciousness from lack of air. He deals with joint pain, he has learned to work through it but some of his students have mentioned how tense he is.. or how he looks like he's not able to move fully/freely...He also suffers from mild insomnia, his restlessness is from his constant checkups/random missions/having to move on his feet somewhere new/etc.. there isn't an easy way for him to obtain sleep.

41. Does your character’s family affect your character in any way?

His ancestor did put a great pressure on him. He was held to his standard.. just as he was held before. Even with him dead, he still holds a reputation that Navika has had to exceed.. and I mean.. hey. He is the killer whale that got away.

He may not admit it, but since Nobayo has gotten on his radar... after being replaced by him nonetheless. he's done everything in his power to monitor who speaks or interacts with him. Mainly for his safety, he has interjected and stopped a few.. and is currently puppetering a few to keep their distance. He won't lie. He has thought about seeking some revenge.. but with Nobayos current state. He thinks that would be cruel.

42. Is there anything in your character’s past that they regret, haunts them, or they wish they could change?

Honestly. And this is full honesty- he regrets nothing. He lived his life the best he could with what he was forced to do.. in the position he was in.. and with the people in his life. He only wished he could have evaded Nobayo's existence for a little longer, but he had really no choice in yhay matter. But besides that.. he sleeps incredibly well at night with the choices he makes.

#Ask meme #director #TYYY WREN <3 #i sit gayly holding my doll up #long

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zannolin · 8 months

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IDK if you're still doing these - from the ask game

Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

How long on average does it take you to finish a part/chapter of a fic?

i absolutely am thank you SO much. i love asks <3

🍢 Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

not in the conventional sense but i've gotten some really insensitive comments, and a while ago someone was essentially harassing me for like. trying to finish a fic for a fandom i wasn't really in actively. i won't share details but tl;dr that's why i don't talk about or write for dsmp anymore, heh.

🍠 How long does it take you to write one of your fics or a chapter/part?

depends per fic! i wrote collateral damage and paper faces in a matter of hours, while something as short as future days took four days over a span of a couple weeks. it took a full month to write all six chapters of growing pains, but three's a crowd, which is less than 2k shorter, only took a week. it's taken me since december of last year to work on split ends (which still isn't done...sorry, i was going to finish it in august but august haunted me with a vengeance, you know how it is) but i got without anesthetic done in, like, four? ish? months. a lot of it depends on school, work, what month it is (again with august), what i have going on outside school and work, my motivation level for each project (boy was i motivated to get three's a crowd and without anesthetic done especially, i remember them both vividly it was like exorcising demons. pyrrhic victory was like this too.) and like, just how my mental health is tbh. also if there's another fandom that sweeps in and kidnaps me, which happens sometimes. cough, shazam, cough. and if it's a multichapter fic that i have not finished prior to posting, i'm sad to say it but the level of engagement it receives (specifically: comments, because those are what i see most visibly and what actually make me feel good) is a big motivator. not like, "if i don't get attention i won't write" but if i'm struggling with a fic for whatever reason, and someone leaves a nice comment, i'm like damn, this person likes what i wrote. i don't wanna let them down. i should go work on that fic! @comfymoth was my no 1 cheerleader when i was writing the fey au and is a huge reason why it got finished or even written in the first place. there were such nice people in my tumblr inbox while i was writing it, and also for the ABBA au. something like wild geese or split ends (or even growing pains, but that was pre-written and it was hell every step of the way) doesn't get anywhere near that kind of attention, even from like one person, and it's fine and i don't particularly mind, but it means when i don't have motivation to work on them, they aren't high on my priority list, y'know? i dunno i hate when i'm like gIvE mE coMmEnTs because i am writing the world's nichest fic for myself and myself only, and i don't NEED comments for validation or whatever, plus if posting fnaf fic taught me anything it's that uhhh big active fandoms freak me the hell out!!! but they're nice. yeah. they're nice. okay that was a really really convoluted way of saying: wouldn't you (and i) like to know, weather boy.

ask game!!

#answered asks #anonymous

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damedking · 11 months

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Okay I literally was saving money to get an apartment over there so I can be beside you and have you move in we had a few months until June but YOU jump ship I moved all the way up here and have been working my ass off saving money so I could make that move without any set backs of course I want to see you of course I wanna hold you until you know everything will be alright so don't sit there and insult me like I wasn't always trying to be there for you as much as Possible under the circumstances I'm going through shit as well this place is dangerous and I'm up here by myself the house next door just got shot up not to long ago people dying left and right and I work at night in dark places anything can happen people were getting killed at there cars and shit and have have to deal with this depression ALONE like iv always have this shit sucks how about you try asking me how I'm feeling and get to know me on a deeper level your not the only one suffering and I'm not comparing struggles I'm just just saying YOU DONT HAVE TO GO THROUGH IT ALONE and also my pages are not always just one subject of content I don't just sit around and post sexual stuff just to get your attention I have like 4 blogs and you follow three of them and Ishare art hentai kinks the state of my mind or random thoughts I have posted things for you to see in the past a few times to get your attention but no time recently I post art I post kinks etc they're my blogs I can do what I want with them And speaking of blogs the other one you blocked me on I was waiting until you unblocked me to see it but I just looked and scheduled phone call trauma your acting as if it was every day when we didn't call each other everyday and when we got off you always pouted and you more often than not enjoyed yourself so don't gas light me as if I was forcing you the only timed calls we did was me waking you up for work Yes I hate that I can't be there for you the way I want to be I know it sucks but don't try to make me seem like I'm someone who's in your life to play around how is any of this playing this is my LIFE I care about you I care about your mental state I care about your depression I care about your smile you my fucking nigga at the end of the day and I know a lot of this is because of shit from your past and how you are so I don't take most of it personal And I can't express myself through comments I still want to be there for you and support you BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT You Crazy GIRL GET THAT THROUGH YOUR HEAD This isn't a damn act I'm sorry you're going through all of that alone I truly am but you don't have to I told you I would always be there for you and I haven't given up yet I know all of this isn't a magical situation that'll just sweep you off your feet but none of the movies you love have a happy beginning I don't want an internet relationship who wants to be away from someone they care about my love language is touch so I try to keep it together while we talked but I wanted to be around you more than anything else I know you inside and out and you haven't scared me away yet because when I was going through some of the worse shit in my life you were there for me even if I wasn't talking about it much of course were not perfect but we're trying our best to live in a world we don't even want to be in SO LETS NOT MAKE IT HARDER THAN IT HAS TO BE

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f1 · 1 year

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Overtaking still difficult at Yas Marina despite 2021 track changes say drivers | 2022 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix

Formula 1 drivers say overtaking at the Yas Marina circuit remains difficult despite the changes made to improve racing at the circuit. Yas Marina underwent major surgery ahead of the 2021 race. The chicane leading to the hairpin that is now the fifth corner of the lap was removed and the slower turns 11-14 were replaced by a sweeping and banked left-hander. That leads into the narrow and tyre-punishing final sector where minor changes were made, opening up the radius of some corners. The changes were intended to deliver better racing, particularly once new technical regulations were introduced this year. The 2022 F1 rules altered the cars’ aerodynamics, which was intended to make it easier for drivers to run behind one another for longer before tyres and internal components overheat. Last year’s Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, during which seven of the 58 laps were run behind the Safety Car, had 20 overtakes. This year’s race ran Safety Car-free and saw 53 on-track passes – well over twice as many. Nonetheless some drivers feel the final sector of the track is continuing to thwart their overtaking attempts. “I think a lot of this is the last sector,” said Valtteri Bottas. “That sector is still, even with slight modifications, so difficult to be close and be within one second [of another driver]. “So it is tricky. I think most of the overtakes are because of tyre delta.” Alexander Albon made similar comments. “We’re still struggling with the thermal effects of the tyres,” he said. “We can follow better, but we still struggle with tyres overheating and that’s just a dilemma that we have. “Sector three here, following another car you lose so much downforce, just because you slide the tyres a little bit more when that happens. The tyres overheat so quickly, it gets really tricky. Unless you catch a car and overtake them within one or two laps, you’re stuck behind them.” He also said turn nine is hard to overtake in, despite being passed at the corner on the final lap of the race by Zhou Guanyu. “Turn nine is too fast,” said Albon. “With our cars we’re braking as we’re turning into the corner, which [means] you can’t out-brake people once you’re turning in flat, or about 10 metres into the corner. So I think turn nine is an issue.” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free 2022 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix Browse all 2022 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix articles via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

#F1 #Overtaking still difficult at Yas Marina despite 2021 track changes #say drivers | 2022 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix #Formula 1

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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undesired gift. [ diluc x reader ]

prompt: donna gives diluc a bottle of mysterious, alchemic liquid. much to everyone’s surprise, diluc tries some. unfortunately, it has some results neither diluc, donna, or you expected. diluc’s part of my love potion series! pairing: diluc x f!reader warnings: none? implied that the love potion evokes true feelings, but if such concepts make you uncomfortable, this is your warning! :) word count: ~1.5k words

a/n: this was originally just gonna be short scenarios but i got pretty wordy with ideas for everyone, so it’s been extended to a full series with independent parts for each character! ... i’ve written a lot of diluc in such a short time HAHA

“where’d you get that?” you ask, gesturing to the bottle that rests on the back countertop of angel’s share. you, one of diluc’s long-time bartenders and one of the few people he would actually consider a friend, had no recollection of ever seeing such a drink within the establishment. it appeared to be pink moscato, but the way the liquid glimmered in the light warned you otherwise.

“it was a gift from his favorite person,” kaeya joins in from his seat on the opposite side of the counter from you and diluc. you raise your eyebrows at him in confusion and amusement.

“you?” you ask kaeya and both kaeya and diluc let out a huff of air at your question.

“not quite. donna.” kaeya corrects you and diluc looks mortified as laughter bursts out of you. you look at the drink once more and are sent into another fit of giggles, all while diluc glares at kaeya for telling you such a thing and kaeya only smirks smugly back at him.

“donna? why did she think sending you a drink from a competitor was a good romantic strategy?” you ask. diluc wants nothing more than to crawl into a hole and avoid this conversation, but he knows how you and kaeya work when you’re together: a duo created of chaos and destruction. after all, the three of you had grown up as childhood friends, with you being the reason kaeya and diluc even acknowledge the presence of the other anymore.

“we are talking about the woman who likes to moan diluc’s name in the street like it’s a holy mantra,” kaeya shoots back and diluc can’t help but envy kaeya for how easily he makes you laugh, even if it is at diluc’s own expense.

“right, right,” you turn to diluc. “so, are you going to drink it? what if it’s poisoned?”

the genuine concern in your voice, combined with the way your tone becomes gentler when speaking directly to diluc has his stomach erupting into butterflies. meanwhile, kaeya pops diluc’s little bubble of infatuation with his next comment.

“maybe it has laxatives in it so diluc stops looking constipated all the time,” kaeya interjects. the corners of your lips twitch and diluc only sighs in response, choosing to ignore his estranged brother’s comment.

“i... doubt it’s poisoned. out of all of us, donna likely irritates me the most, but i doubt she would try to kill me with a drink,” diluc says to you, doing his best to ignore kaeya, who takes a drink from the glass of wine he had been carefully nursing for the last half hour.

“well, there is one way we can find out. you should try some!” your tone sounds like you’re just trying to be a supportive friend, but diluc knows you far too well to fall for it. despite this, the redhead has never been able to say no to you, which is something you are well aware of.

“fine,” diluc says and before you or kaeya can stop him, he uncorks the bottle and takes a swig, leaving you and kaeya to gape at him, wide-eyed. you half expect the redhead to fall over as if the alcohol wounded him, but he just winces at the aftertaste. after recovering, diluc just stares at you, bewildered by your bewilderment.

“h... how was it?” you finally ask. diluc glances down at the bottle in his hand.

“i would never sell nor supply anyone with this, even if i was paid extra to do so.” diluc responds and he feels the tips of his ears warm at the way you give a light laugh in response.

the night continues as normal, with kaeya eventually getting booted out at closing time with all other patrons. this leaves you and diluc alone, who seems to be in a strangely good mood, but you fail to say anything in fear of disrupting the soft smile that seems to be a permanent fixture on his face for the night. such happy nature on his behalf hadn’t started until he took a drink from donna’s gift, but you were fairly certain from the smell that it was non-alcoholic. plus, even diluc wasn’t that much of a lightweight, right?

instead... was he happy with the gift? did he like the attention donna gave him? he had never gave an indicator as to such a thing beforehand, but he had willingly consumed her gift under the smallest provocation from you. did he desire to court her? the sickening feeling of jealousy begins to gnaw at your stomach and you quickly attempt to ignore it, in the same way you had done your best to ignore your blossoming feelings for diluc over the last few months. the two of you were friends and that’s all you ever would be. you had no right to get jealous over a romantic gesture when you weren’t even brave enough to make one yourself.

but archons, you can never stop yourself from speaking, can you?

“what’s got you in a good mood?” you ask as you wipe down the counter while diluc wipes down the tables. cleanup duty was often one of the few times diluc engaged in small talk, but you couldn’t help but to curse yourself for breaking the comfortable silence that lingered between the two of you. diluc looks nonplussed by the interruption and looks up from his towel to smile at you.

it’s wide and his teeth are bright and it contorts his face in the most beautiful of ways, but it’s so uncharacteristic that you’re thrown for a loop, heat rising to your face. in all the years since his father’s death, you had never seen diluc smile in such a way.

what was in that drink? you ask yourself, but before you can think too much about it, diluc’s voice is interrupting your racing thoughts.

“i get to spend this time with you.” his words are honest and true, but they only result in the widening of your eyes. bewilderment consumes you whole as he sets his cleaning supplies down on the table. who is this and what did they do to my diluc?

“what’s with that face? do you not believe me?” diluc asks, walking over to you and slipping behind the bar, standing only a few feet away.

i must have passed out, you determine. there’s no way in hell-

“why wouldn’t i be happy when i get to spend time with the person i’m in love with?” diluc’s words are spoken simply, innocence interwoven into every word. you stiffen in response to them, staring at diluc blankly as your mind struggles to catch up with the sudden turn of events.

“w... what?” you breathe, absolutely terrified by the fact that mr. grumpy pants, the one whom you had fallen in love with, was suddenly knocking down every single one of his walls to tell you that he loves you. he loves you, the one who pesters him every time the two of you are on shift together. the one who would pester him when you were kids, insisting that the two of you should play knights together if he really wanted to become one. the one who stood before him now, tired and stuck in a disheveled bartender uniform.

diluc closes the distance between the two of you and stands before you, lifting his hand to cup your cheek gently. the pad of his thumb sweeps back and forth on your cheek and you hate yourself for leaning into his touch. this isn’t him. there’s no way. she did something to that drink. the redhead deciphers your hesitation with ease and smirks at you.

“do you want me to prove it?” diluc challenges as his ruby eyes flicker downward to glance at your lips.

shimmering pink liquid. where had you seen it before? you wrack your brain as diluc leans in and you immediately pull away as you retrieve your answer, leaving him to frown at your rejection.

“this isn’t...” you begin, stumbling over your words as you feel your head spin. archons, diluc got so close that you smelled his cologne. “what you drank earlier. it’s from the souvenir shop, it’s a love p-”

“love potion,” diluc interrupts, finishing your words for you. “i know. i read the bottom of the bottle beforehand. i did not necessarily expect it to work, but i figured that, at the worst, it would motivate me to confess my feelings to you.”

“oh.” you respond, voice hollow. “oh.”

he... knew?

“now that such misconceptions have been cleared, i suppose i should clarify my question as well.” diluc looks at you with an intensity you had never seen from him before. it sends a thrill through your body as his arms pin you between him and the countertop. “i would like to kiss you. may i?”

you nod.

you swear you taste the love potion on his lips.

#diluc favoritism alert but thats a given for this blog #diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #ill make a masterlist for this series later lol #diluc #genshin impact

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