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theelazaruspit · 6 months

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Lazy Sunday | Husband!John Price x Author!Reader

Getting some much-needed stress relief from your doting husband

Warning/content: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, gentle dom!price, established relationship, porn with plot, slow(ish) burn, angst, hurt/comfort, reader wears glasses, discussion of self-doubt and insecurity, cunnilingus, fingering, dumbification if you squint? (You’re just really relaxed), creampie, squirting, no use of y/n, they’re grossly in love idk what else to tell you honestly, but if I missed anything, let me know! Word count: 4.9k.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for ages, and I've been chipping away at it slowly, but after seeing @ghosts-cyphera 's husband!price drabble, I rose from the metaphorical dead, and here we are, so thank you, Alora, for being a fellow price enjoyer and just a gem, and I hope you all enjoy <3

Everything was just too much.

You’re stiff, jaw clenched, shoulders tense, and you can feel a migraine forming between your eyes. It’s a little ridiculous, really. By all accounts, you should be more relaxed. The hard work was finished, your novel was complete, the accompanying art had been chosen, and all the finer details were squared away; now, all that was left was publishing, though that was the publisher’s headache, not yours. It was the waiting that always got to you.

No matter how many times you’d gone through the process, no matter how many works you published, the anticipation never failed to eat away at you. There is a special kind of stress that comes with releasing your art into the world, in having people get a glimpse into your mind. While it’s gratifying to share your hard work with the masses, once it leaves you, it’s no longer only your own, and others are free to interpret it as they please. It’s deeply personal and scary like you’re bearing your soul to the public, but what’s done is done. All the late nights spent writing were over, and now you’re alone with your thoughts again.

You’ve tried everything to keep yourself busy. Your office is far cleaner now than it was before your husband left, both of your laundry was done with all the garments being put in their rightful place, and there was a cake on the counter from your late-night baking excursion a few days ago.

All of your usual distractions failed you. Nothing has been able to loosen the knot coiling itself in your chest. It’s silly; this is not your first book. The first was well received, a fact you should be grateful for, and you are. However, its success set a precedent. What if this one wasn’t as good? What if it didn’t live up to everyone’s expectations? The more questions you considered, the more withdrawn you became, allowing your doubts to swallow you whole. And that’s how you ended up back where you started, staring blankly at an empty document. You (foolishly) believed that writing could help, thinking a fresh idea would clear your conscience, but nothing comes. So you sit, hoping for anything to inspire you, but all you hear is the voice in the back of your head taunting you.

For a fleeting moment, you consider seeking the comfort of your husband; however, you quickly decide against it.

Not at all because you didn’t think he could soothe you. If anything, he knows better than anyone else how to keep you grounded, but you’re painfully aware of how rare it is for John to get time off, and it would be unfair to take that much-needed relaxation away from him with your problems. Still, you yearn for the solace he provides you. It’s absurd to miss someone who’s a mere twenty feet away, someone you could easily see. But, you stubbornly resist the temptation to steal his time, even if you know he’d want you to. He was insistent that you could never bother him, but you still had your doubts.

Compared to everything he goes through, your insecurities are small and insignificant; you can handle this on your own, even though you feel your eyes beginning to dry the longer you stare at the bright white void in front of you. A long groan escapes you as you toss your glasses unceremoniously onto your desk (had they fallen? You couldn’t be bothered to check) before burying your head in your hands.

“You’ve got this,” You mutter to yourself. It’s hardly convincing. Did you actually have this? You’re not entirely sure, but it doesn’t hurt trying.

You’re unsure how long you wallowed before your husband appeared in the doorway. Despite being uncharacteristically patient given the circumstances, you knew it was only a matter of time before he’d come to you. Rarely would you hide away in your office while he was home; usually, you’d rushed into his arms to steal his warmth every opportunity you got, but he tried to be understanding. Having him back in the house was just as much of an adjustment for you as it was for him, and he wanted to be considerate of that. Though his comings and goings had slowed considerably over the span of your relationship, he knew they still weighed on you, and he also knew you’d sooner die than admit that, so he gave you space.

But after another hour passes, his patience wears thin. This was a while even for you, and he wanted to make sure you were alright. So, ever the diligent lover, he prepares you a peace offering, a perfectly brewed cup of your favorite tea, and heads to your door.

His suspicions that you weren’t as well off as you claimed are confirmed when he’s greeted with the back of your hunched-over form, papers strewn across your desk. It takes one glance at you for John to know the kind of evening you’re having despite your best efforts to hide it. The stress practically radiates off you, casting a thick layer of tension in the room. The last thing he wants is to startle you, so he watches, waiting for you to acknowledge his presence. But the longer he rests against the doorframe, the sooner he realizes you haven’t noticed him yet, another sign that something isn’t quite right.

You didn’t have to say anything for him to know what you were thinking. He can practically hear the voices in your head lying to you, slowly breaking you down, and he feels his heart clench. It’s times like this when he wishes your mind was kinder to you, that it afforded you the same kindness you so freely gave others. He also wished you would let him help you. Your independence has always been something he admired and was one of the first things he noticed that drew him to you. You were radiant, ethereal, having an air of confidence and grace about you that followed you wherever you went, practically lighting your path.

However, your independence made it difficult for you to depend on him. He told you no fewer than a million times, practically pleaded with you to let him shoulder your burdens, to tell you that no problem was too small to tell him about, and while you’d opened up over the years, he could see that your walls were up. Nevertheless, he would do everything he could to chip away at them, to take you out of your head for a while.

He walks over to you slowly, placing the mug down before lightly rubbing your shoulders. You know he’s there, immediately feeling comforted by his presence, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. You don’t want him to see you like this, not while you look like a sad puppy, but he persists, taking your silence as an invitation to speak.

“Made you some tea, love,” he says softly, receiving only a muffled hum of acknowledgment. Undeterred, he keeps massaging your shoulders, applying a bit more pressure, a soft smile gracing his features when you lean into his touch. His movements are slow intentional, wanting to ease you into the feeling.

He doesn’t have to look at your face, which has since been laid flat on your desktop, to know your brows are furrowed, and he wants nothing more than to smooth away the creases with his fingers.

Instead, he turns your chair to face him, forcing you to pick your head up. He ignores the whine you let out upon realizing that he’s not going to let you bask in your sadness in peace, as well as the glare you give him as you put your glasses on. There’s no malice behind your gaze, and he can see you fighting back a smile, causing his grin to widen.

“Good morning, lovely.”

“It’s not morning, and I probably look like shit” You sigh.

You’re right; it wasn’t morning, but the latter was far from the truth. John loved you in all your forms, but this, you at home in your comfy clothes, was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen, even if you were being a little grouchy. He doesn’t take it personally. No, he knows you’re frustration is with yourself, which only motivates him to relax you more.

He doesn’t ask if you’re okay; you both know you aren’t, so he settles with a more helpful question: asking what you need. It’s more a formality than anything because he already knows the answer. It’s clear you don’t want to talk because if you did, you would have by now. He’s no stranger to nights spent holding you, listening to you vent about everything troubling you as you lay your head on his chest, and while he welcomes your rambles, you’re too tangled up in your thoughts to get the words out.

No, you needed something else. You needed a break; you needed someone you trusted to take control for a while, and who was better suited for the task than him? You both knew he wouldn’t move until you asked him to because even when he’s in control, he’s still at your mercy.

You don’t answer him immediately, not that he expected you to. For all his gentle coaxing, the question was surprisingly direct, and it caught you off guard. You know what you want. You want to climb into bed, wrap yourself in blankets, and sleep, and no matter how much you try to deny it, you also want to melt into your husband’s touch while you do. But with how restless you are, that seems impossible. To do that, first, you would need to relax, something you’re notoriously bad at. John would be eager to assist, to soothe the storm that rages within you, but you also know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t help you if you didn’t ask. So, reluctantly, you confess you’re having trouble relaxing, that there are too many thoughts running through your head to turn your brain off. Once you start, it’s as if you’ve opened Pandora’s box and you just break. All the emotions you’ve tried to suppress come pouring out mostly incoherently. In your frenzy, you barely notice that John moved to kneel in front of you until you feel his hand cup your jaw.

He doesn’t get too close, not wanting to overwhelm you, because he knows how hard this is for you already.

You’re a lot like him in that way, birds of a feather, he supposes, as you both have difficulty opening up and trusting others. He’s forever humbled by the fact that you, wonderfully amazing you, chose him, and it’s not something he takes for granted. He values all of the time you spend together, even if you aren’t in the best of spirits. God knows he’s had his fair share of melancholic moments that you worked him through, and it is at that moment he is determined to do the same for you, to help you feel better.

“Shh, it’s alright, love, I have you. There’s nothing you need to worry about. I’ll take care of everything, alright? I’ll give you what you need,” He reassures you in that low timbre you’ve missed so much. Your nod is rewarded with a light kiss on the cheek before he stands up, pulling you up from your chair with him.

You let out a yelp of surprise when he scoops you up and carries you towards your bedroom. His strength never fails to surprise you, but you don’t have time to dwell on it when he gently places you on the edge of your bed. For the second time tonight, he kneels before you, taking your hands in his while looking you in the eye.

“You know how much I love you, don’t you?” His question is met with a scoff.

“Of course I do. I don’t think there’s anyone in this world that loves me more.”

“Well, I’d certainly hope not. Otherwise, we’d have a problem on our hands.” He chuckles, running his thumb over your knuckles before continuing, “I want you to do something for me. You’re so smart, love, bloody brilliant. But right now, I don’t want you to think. I just want you to feel. Can you do that f’me, angel? Let me make you feel good.”

You nod as you did before, only this time, you’re met with a shake of his head.

“Need your words, sweetheart”

The “please” that escapes you is more breathless than you expected. He had hardly touched you, and you could already feel a bit dazed by the intensity of his stare. Your soft confirmation is met with a smile before he works you out of your sweats and guides you to lay flat on the bed. He takes his time to press kisses up your thigh, slowly making his way to your center, nipping every now and then, eliciting little gasps from you. And while you appreciate his desire to worship you, you were getting impatient. The sight of him so close to where you need him but not touching you was almost too much to bear.

Before you can protest, he takes pity on you, slips your panties down, and rewards your patience with a long lick up your slit paired with a chaste kiss to your clit.

Your moment of reprieve doesn’t last long before he absolutely devours you, laving at your folds without another care in the world. The strokes of his tongue are slow but firm, his mouth practically molded to your form, following you no matter how much you move and shake. He wants to get you used to the feeling, give you time to surrender yourself to him, and you’re starting to. He sees the way you grasp at the sheets, mindlessly looking for something, anything to anchor you, and he’s quick to provide.

You hadn’t realized how much you were squirming until he pulled back, one calloused hand stroking your inner thigh with the other lacing his fingers with yours while instructing you to relax, reminding you to be good for him, to take all that he’s giving you. You look angelic, eyes rolled back, your body flushed, a sheen of sweat forming, and every touch driving you closer to the edge. But he knows it’s not enough. Had you been calmer and less frazzled, you would have reached your peak already, but right now, you need a push to help you over the edge.

When he takes his hand off your thigh and lets his fingers join his tongue, your back bows. If not for his firm grip, you may have fallen off the bed, but there is no need to worry about that. John’s got you; he always does.

It’s overwhelming having him so wholly focused on you, feeling his deep, muffled groans against your center, and it’s clear he wasn’t faring much better.

He may be helping you destress, but you know your husband well enough to know he’s enjoying this as much as you are, if not more. John Price is not a selfish man, far from it. Many have speculated that his selflessness will be his downfall. But, at this moment, he can’t help but think about himself. Can’t help but think about how his cock is straining in his trousers, which are becoming almost distractingly tight, about how he wants nothing more than to pump you full of his cum. But he’s a patient man. He understands that he’ll get there eventually. No, for now, he’s more than happy to have you soaking his beard. What’s important at this moment is getting you to cum on his tongue, on his fingers, because he knows the wetter you are, the easier it’ll be to slip into you, leaving him to settle for grinding himself against the bed for relief, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

Despite your whines and pleas for him to speed up, for him to give you more, he knows better. He keeps the same pace, knowing the slow build, while seemingly tortuous, will make you cum that much harder, and that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you boneless, without a single thought that isn’t him and how good he’s making you feel. There was no need to rush, you had all night, and there’s no place he’d rather be than here, with his fingers stuffed in your gorgeous pussy while he laps at your folds.

The sounds you two are making are nothing short of obscene. Your keens and his moans filled the room. And god, you were so fucking wet you were practically leaking down his wrist, and when your moans start rising in pitch, he knows you’re close. All it takes are a few more strokes of fingers before you’re cumming, your body going rigid with a broken sob. John works you through it, lapping up your spend and rubbing barely there circles around your clit to prolong your pleasure while patiently waiting for you to catch your breath.

When your trembling subsides, he carefully removes his fingers, using his now free hand to smooth over your thighs, murmuring praises about how well you did for him before standing, finally ridding himself of his clothes. You look so beautiful like this, spread out, panting, still glistening with your release. It just makes him want to ruin you, but always the gentleman, he checks in with you first.

“Still with me, love?” he teases, hands soothing at your sides, earning him a laugh, a genuine laugh. One that makes your eyes crinkle, and a chuckle of his own leaves him in response. It’s a good sign; it’s progress, but he knows you’re not entirely unwound yet. He knows you still have more left in you.

You pull him in for a kiss that he eagerly accepts. It’s tender, intimate. You can taste yourself on his lips, and John’s complete and utter reverence for you almost makes you shy. His love for you flows through him and pours into his touch when he deepens the kiss, and you can’t help but lean into it.

“I want more. I need to feel you,” you confess against his lips.

“How do you want me?” he murmurs, moving to trail kisses down your neck. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. All you have to do is ask,” and you know he means it. He’d bring you the moon and the stars if you wished.

“From behind, I don’t want to think about anything but how good you feel,” you said, pulling away to lay on your stomach before being stopped by John’s hand on your shoulder, turning you towards him. Your momentary confusion quickly dissipates when you realize what he’s doing.

He’s taking off your glasses.

Admittedly, in your haze, you’d forgotten you still had them on, so used to the familiar weight, but it makes your heart swell as you watch him place them delicately on your bedside table. It’s such a small gesture, but it’s endearing, and it reminds you how lucky you are to have such an attentive, caring lover, and you can’t help but pull him in for another kiss. John adores the lovestruck look you give him as you pull away, eyes bleary, pupils dilated. And though he could look at it all day, he reluctantly moves away, readjusting you so you’re face down on the bed before slotting himself between your legs.

A contented sigh leaves you as you settle into your plush bedding, feeling thankful you’d insisted on replacing those threadbare monstrosities your husband called “sheets” (he’d huffed and rolled his eyes at your dramatics– “they are not going to rip your skin off” –but deep down he loved them too) and close your eyes, sinking into John’s touch.

“Ready for me?” He questions, smoothing a hand up your spine, relishing in your shiver.

“Yes, need you to fuck me, John, please,” you breath, and who was he to deny you?

At your confirmation, he pushes in with a languid thrust, pulling you flush against him, giving you time to adjust. He can’t help but let out a low grumble at the view in front of him. He hasn’t even moved yet, and you’re already driving him insane. The feeling of being enveloped by you is indescribable. To be this close, to truly feel you, is unlike anything he’s ever experienced, and judging by the way you’re whimpering and trying to grind yourself back into him, he knows you feel the same.

He sets a steady pace, unhurried, leisurely, and revels in the quiet mewls you let out. The tension pulling your muscles taut dissipated with every thrust, and John couldn’t be happier because that’s what he wanted.

He wants to push all of those bad thoughts away. All he wants you to think about is him and how good he’s making you feel and to make you cum over and over until you’re spent.

“That feel good, love?” he whispers in your ear, his chest pressed to your back.

“Yes, f-fuck s’good,” you gasp out, followed by a broken “I love you” that he returns while quickening his pace, fucking you deeper. He can’t help it, really. Hearing the fondness in your voice makes him want to worship you more, causing him to aim for the spot that always makes you shake, and he knows he’s got it when he hears your high-pitched keen.

You’re begging now, desperate pleas of “Please don’t stop” and “right there,” and he doesn’t need to see your face to know that your eyes are scrunched closed, mouth agape, to know that you look stunning. He wishes he could see your face, to see you when you reach your peak that you’re edging closer and closer to, and he will, but after you cum again for him.

“That’s it, good girl, always takin’ me so well,” he praises. “Take what you need. I won’t stop, promise. Just want to make you feel so good don’t want you to think about anything but cumming. You close f’me, love? Yeah? That pretty little cunt gonna soak my cock?” he questions, lifting your hips to rub your aching clit, knowing all you need is a little pressure to send you over the edge.

Your words may be muffled, but your responding string of “yes” s are clear as day and only make him rut into you deeper. He needs you to fall over that edge again. Needs you to alleviate all that stress, and when you finally reach your peak with a muted sob of his name, he slows but doesn’t stop, watching in awe of the way you spasm around him, and waits for you to settle.

You’re more pliant now, a bit hazy with pleasure, but he’s not done with you yet. No, he needs you, his beautiful, distinguished wife, to fully surrender yourself to him and the pleasure he’s bringing you, even if only for a while. All those years ago, he vowed to protect you, even if it’s from yourself, and he plans to do just that. He knows you have one more in you, and he intends to wring it out of you.

A contented sigh escapes him as he pulls out before gently lifting you and laying you flat on your back once more. And when he sees your face, he’s reminded of just how breathtaking you are. Not that he ever forgot, but it’s a sight he never tires of. You’re one of the most precious beings he’s ever encountered, a goddess whom he’s eternally grateful has chosen to bless him with your presence, but now? Now, you’re glowing. He wishes he could immortalize the image in front of him, your eyes lidded, with a soft, blissed-out grin playing on your lips, but he’s brought back by the sound of your voice.

“You’re staring,” you tease, voice a little hoarse from use as you re-settle your glasses on your face.

“I could never get tired of looking at you, sweetheart,” he responds earnestly, unashamed that he had been caught because he truly could. There was just something about you that brought out such genuine affection in him. You give so much of yourself to others, and it makes him want to do everything in his power to pour the same love back into you. He can’t help but want to fulfill your every need. You deserve the world. Leaning into another kiss, he tries to convey what he can’t through words through his touch.

This is more passionate than the last, but he’s met with the same vigor from you. It’s easy to forget the task at hand, but your soft moans were enough of a reminder that he wasn’t finished with you yet.

Lowering you back onto the bed, he guides himself into you, a deep groan rumbling in his chest while your mouth falls agape. There’s less pretense this time. You’re more than ready for him to start moving and thank god for it because as patient as he is, he’s only human, and you’re both getting desperate.

And when he pushes your knees towards your chest, laying your legs over his shoulders, the sound you make is borderline pornographic, and it’s then he realizes you may actually be the death of him. Holding himself back is proving more difficult by the second, so he opts for placing kisses on your calves to ground himself. He moves his hands, one going to hold the fat of your thigh for leverage while the other goes to cup your jaw. Any other time, he’d coax you to look at him, applying just enough pressure to make you face him, but he can see how overwhelmed you are.

Peering down at you, gaze unwavering, he sees your eyes barely open, all cloudy and lust blown, and he can’t help but tease you just a little, not that you mind.

“That’s it, this what you needed?” he practically coos at you, voice low and saccharine and growing gruffer by the second. “I haven’t been taking proper care of my angel, have I? No, no, that won’t do. Gotta make up for lost time. Poor thing, havin’ no one to fuck you properly when I’m not around. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

You try to answer, you really do, try to tell him you’ve missed him more and that no one makes you feel the way he does, but the words are like lead on your tongue, and your head is starting to feel fuzzy. The steady grind of his hips into yours and the feeling of being completely surrounded by him leaves you breathless, and all you can manage is a high-pitched sob that seems to satisfy him enough, and he keeps the pace.

“Gonna be good and give me one more? Of course, you’re my perfect girl, always so obedient.” Your responding gasp is immediately met with praise. In truth, at the moment, you’d do just about anything he asked, and you could feel the pressure building quicker, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Don’t look away, love. Wanna see those pretty eyes get all teary for me” he murmurs, words slightly slurred, and you distantly realize he’s not as unaffected as you thought. “Look so good like this, just need you to let go. Can you do that? Gonna be my sweet girl and cum for me. Let go for me, love.”

His gentle command, his firm grip, the pressure of him inside you paired with the almost feral glint in his eyes do you in, and before you know it, you’re back is arching, and you just gush for him with a soundless scream, soaking your lower halves. John isn’t far behind, and the relief of finally pumping you full is almost too much. You always get so tight when you cum, as if you don’t wanna let him go, so he indulges you, lowering your legs but not pulling out yet, instead opting to lay on top of you.

For a while, neither of you moves, trying to gain your bearings, filling the room with your soft pants.

Everything feels so serene, as if you two are the only people in the world. You exhale a contented sigh, eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of John’s body weight atop you.

After some time, he pulls out, shushing your whine of protest with a quick kiss before pulling you into his chest. As you burrow yourself further into him, John wraps you up in his arms. You always get so clingy after, a fact you’re endlessly embarrassed by, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s just another testament to how content, how safe you feel with him, and he cherishes the ability to give you the attention you crave.

Later, he’d clean you up, make you another cup of tea, seeing as the first was abandoned in your haste, get your favorite takeout, and set you up for a lazy night in, but for now, he holds you close. Warmth and exhaustion are seeping into your bones, and you peer up at John through your lashes and utter a quiet “thank you.”

“No need to thank me, love. I’ll always be here for you,” he reminds, giving you a featherlight kiss on your forehead before continuing, “Get some sleep”

And as you drift off, you can’t help the upturn of your lips. Your mind was quiet, and you finally got the sleep you craved.

#john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price smut #captain john price x reader #price x reader #price smut #captain price #captain john price #john price

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mysticbewitched · 2 months

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Hey mystic

I was gonna link an ask from earlier but i cant seem to put links in here for some reason and google is not helping. Its the one about the non-dualism community and how toxic it can be. I just wanted to say I am glad others agree. I wouldn't consider myself a beginner to loa manifesting or shifting. I just think its crazy how someone says things like "just be" and someone asks them to clarify it and they respond by saying something like "do you need help drinking water."

Trends come and go, I'm sure once ND is no longer new someone else will unearth some old spiritual practice and claim its above LOA as well. I just wish everyone would be accepting and encouraging instead of what seems to be condescending because they think they know something no one else does.

Lastly I heard you say on the podcast the person you were gonna do it with is no longer in your life, sorry to hear that. I only bring this up because I believe I saw a post saying you manifested this person into your life and then they changed (I could be wrong though). I also manifested someone back (an ex) but it was a 'manifestation' and all i ended up creating was misery.

You don't have to answer this if the last part is too personal, but if you want send me a message. Just wanted to say I think you have some great views that resonated.

Great podcast btw

I completely agree with you and I'm glad that others are able to see the madness that I'm seeing.

What they usually mean by telling you all, "just be" is they're telling you to realize your true self as awareness. They're telling you to just recognize your divine nature in the present moment and enjoy knowing yourself.

I don't see why they don't just tell you to turn within and recognize your true self as awareness in this present moment without all the riddles.

I agree that everyone here should turn within themselves and listen to their inner guidance instead of relying on the "others" for advice, because then the constant search and craving for more answers will never end. However, at the same time, it's the polite and helpful thing to do to let your readers know exactly what they're looking for while you advise for them to look within themselves for the truth: realizing divine the source of your true self.

If everyone knew what they were looking for, I think they would have an easier time turning within and trusting their inner voice to lead them to answers.

I feel as if the lack of clarification on exactly what to look for is unnecessary and it can come off as mind games instead of just being direct with the readers and telling them all, "you're turning within to realize your true nature. Hint: you are always *aware.*"

I happen to notice from time to time as well that some of these bloggers feel the need to use the whole "words are meaningless" nonsense as a moronic excuse to bully or put down other blogs amongst themselves or with their anons for simply viewing things in a different perspective and I don't think that's cool for anyone to do.

That behavior isn't right. It's just plain mean.

Everyone is entitled to their own perspective and share their own views, but to publicly put down specific blog names for everyone to hear and make fun of them together? Very condescending and cold.

Oh, believe me, I'm waiting for the next spiritual trend to come out of nowhere. I wonder what it's going to be next. Now my curiosity is in flames.

To end things here, I want to thank you so much for your kinds words and the lovely compliment.

Your feedback and appreciation for the podcast means so much to me. I'm so very glad to hear that my perspective of things resonated with you.

Thank you for enjoying my podcast.

#awareness #reality warping #manifesting #nondualism #reality creation #manifestation #consciousness #nonduality #self-realization

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 20 days

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AITA for not wanting my friends to visit?

(English isn't my first language and this might be too long)

I (26 X) live in a different city from a bunch of friends who constantly travel here due to concerts and other massive events (think at least twice per year). I've always tried being welcoming in the past bc I too used to live in a much smaller city and wished I could attend concerts on a more regular basis, plus I've been friends with people in this group for more than 10 years, so I tend to be comfortable around them in almost any situation.

One friend (26M) from such group has recently moved in with me, and we've been roomates for almost half a year now, however I noticed the number of request to coming over and staying has exponentially increased since he moved in last year (think at least one person every two months and the number of days increasing to up to one week when previously they used to stay not more than four).

Normally, this wouldn't bother me considering that they are all common friends, but recenetly I've been going through a particular depressive episode where all I want to do is not being bothered by anyone in my own house (my roomate being the exception since I'm used to him being there) and I've been having trouble getting along with the more often visits. While adding the fact that since my friemd moved in, everyone just sort of stoped directly asking me if it was okay to stay and just asking the roomate instead and making him tell me.

I've expressed my fatigue to my roomate, along my dislike of not being considered as an essential part of the plan when other friends prepare their stay, I've been certainly feel used by them while also being aware that my depression fuels any negative feeling that crosses my way, but he and the others have reasurred me that it's just easier to bother him with such details since they know I'm not doing so well. I've agreed with their plans nonetheless thinking I could get better or just ignore them, but there's this big concert next month where a bunch of people are coming to stay for over a week and I'm just feeling overwheled thinking about it.

There is one particular case that troubles me the most as a guest, bc since other friends might just be a little draining, she (24F) and I used to be in some sort of "situationship" about a year ago that never really went anywhere and while we put some distance we did end up in relatively good terms. I've been told multiple times that I can't throw away this long friendship just because I caught feelings at some point and while I can act normal around her in public, there's just this terrible dreadful feeling of imagining her being back in my house as though nothing has happened.

The three of us (her, my roomate and I) used to be the closest from the group of friends and as such I've allowed him to invite her over (mind you, a completly diferent city) while I've been away, but can't stand the idea of her being there at the same time as me. My roomate has told both of us we ought to patch things down (so everything can be as before) but every instance we've tried to talk I've just been convinced I want her less and less inside my house.

This should be pretty obvious for me, but I've gotten to a point of avoiding my own house for weeks bc depression keeps telling me no one wants me there and I'm the problematic one while not wanting to upset my roomate (it is also his house afterall) or the other friends who keep making plans to visit, with my irritable mood and also being reminded that THEY have no problem with me and its okay if I need to take my space.

AITA if I'm considering completly shuting down all visits for a what's left of the year despite people having made plans since last year and (inderctly) telling me said plans with anticipation? I just don't know what else to do but changing most of these people plans when I'm feeling bad all the time around other people and not being able to properly express that in a way where everyone don't just think I'm a resentful toxic ex and that my problem is just with one person.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

I'm So Hot For You | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley makes you some homemade hot sauce to show his love and appreciation for you being his sexy nurse.

Warnings: Fluff

Length: 1600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! (But it can be read on its own) Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order!

After spending weeks and countless hours helping Bradley heal after he had been injured, you really deserved something special.

And now that you were going to be his wife, Bradley thought you deserved everything. But the one thing he knew you would love that he thought he could give you, was your very own homemade hot sauce.

"Why are we here?" Jake asked him for the tenth time as he and Bradley donned matching aprons that said San Diego Community College across the front.

"To make hot sauce, dumbass."

"Yes, I understand that much, but why are we here? I don't see why you didn't just bring Angel with you."

"It's supposed to be a surprise. You do know what a surprise is, correct?" Bradley asked him, like he was talking to a very small child. "Now put your gloves on so you don't burn your eyes later."

Jake scoffed at him as the instructor introduced herself to the class, and both Bradley and Jake settled onto the stools behind their workstation.

"Hi everyone! My name is Miss Mabel, and I will be your teacher for today," said a very kind looking older woman. Bradley sat up straight on his stool, ready to make a treat that you would love. "It's so nice to see so many couples here. This is a great relationship building exercise."

Jake turned and glared at Bradley. "Couples? Relationship? What did you bring me to, Bradshaw?!"

"I..... oh, shit," Bradley muttered, but Miss Mabel was already talking about different kinds of hot peppers, and Bradley really wanted to take good notes. He started scribbling down everything she was telling them.

After Miss Mabel got everyone started on instructions, she started to walk around the room and help each pair individually.

"You should have brought your future wife to couples cooking class, Bradshaw," Jake said, sorting the peppers by scoville heat units.

"Can you just cooperate and help me, please?" Bradley begged, getting out a set of knives and cutting boards. "You know I can't do this right by myself."

Jake sighed deeply. "It amazes me that you manage to get through the day. Fine, I'll help," he agreed, handing Bradley the peppers in order of hotness to cut up.

"Gentlemen, how are we making out over here?" Miss Mabel asked when she stopped at their table.

Jake just shook his head. "Not sure, Miss Mabel. He's kind of a lost cause in the kitchen, but he's demanding that he takes the lead on this one." Jake held his hands up in surrender.

"I just wanted it to be special," Bradley grunted, dicing up a habanero pepper. "Can't I try to make something special for the person I love?"

Miss Mabel just smiled at them. "Cooking for your significant other is always a gift from the heart."

"Yeah, well... he's being so grouchy about this. He keeps saying he just needs it to be perfect," Jake told her. Then in a hushed voice, he added, "But between you and me, Miss Mabel, his creativity outweighs his ability. And then he gets very snarky when things don't go as planned."

"If I get grouchy, it's usually always your fault," Bradley told Jake as he added an array of peppers to the blender.

"You two seem like polar opposites! How long have you known each other?"

"Too long," Bradley grunted at the same time as Jake said, "Twelve years, Ma'am."

Bradley watched Jake measure out some vinegar and add it to the blender as he chattered along with Miss Mabel.

"That's a long time," Miss Mabel noted. "You two seem to need to work on your communication with each other. I would definitely recommend more of my classes as a fun way to help you with that."

"Thanks. We'll definitely consider it," Jake told her with a wink before she moved to the next table.

Bradley glared at him. "Will you stop fucking around?"

Jake just started cracking up. "She thinks we're in a relationship. With each other."

"Yeah. I caught that," Bradley said, shaking his head. "Now how much vinegar did you add? A teaspoon or a tablespoon?"

"Could you imagine a world in which I would slum it with you, Bradshaw? Hilarious," Jake drawled, settling back onto his stool.

Bradley rolled his eyes. "I would never date you. You are insufferable and irritating. That's probably why my fiancée turned you down. Now, did you add a teaspoon or a tablespoon?"

"Um, the little one," Jake replied, looking unsure of himself.

Bradley tipped his head back and counted to five before looking at Jake again. "Bringing you here was a terrible idea."

"Yeah, mainly because it's for couples, but also because I am no better in the kitchen than you are."

When it was time to sample the sauces, Miss Mabel deemed Bradley and Jake's batch 'nearly inedible' and told them they should 'work on communicating and listening to one another'.

When they left the classroom, Jake checked his phone, completely unfazed by the epic failure. "Wanna stop at the Hard Deck?"

Bradley scowled. "No, I don't want to stop at the Hard Deck! I'm taking my jar of nasty hot sauce home and telling her you ruined it."

Jake just shrugged. "She's going to think it's funny."

--------------------------------------

When Bradley got home, you were just walking up the sidewalk with Tramp on his leash.

"Look! It's Daddy!" you told Tramp as he pulled you along to get to Bradley faster. "Did you have fun with Jake?" you asked Bradley as he scooped Tramp into his arms.

"No," he told you, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

"Where did you guys go, anyway?"

Bradley followed you and Tramp into the house, smiling as the sunlight hit your engagement ring.

"Baby Girl, I just wanted to do something nice for you, but I made this for you instead," he said, holding out the jar of hot sauce to you.

"What is it?" you asked, eyeing it skeptically. Even Bradley found the shade of orangish-green to be off putting, and he would eat pretty much anything.

"Hot sauce."

"Hot sauce?! You made me hot sauce?" you asked, your eyes filled with love as you flung your arms around him. "I love it!"

"Well...." Bradley said while cringing. "Maybe you should taste it before you say that...."

He watched you dip a spoon into the jar, and the look of pure delight on your face turned to one of panic as the sauce touched your tongue. "What the fuck is in this?" you asked, coughing and gagging. Bradley watched you head for the sink, and he tried to suppress a laugh, but he couldn't. "It tastes like sour, evil vinegar."

"I'm so sorry, Sweetheart. I know it's disgusting. I tried my best. But the teacher thought Jake and I were a couple, and it was a disaster." He poured you a glass of milk and wiped the tears from your eyes with his thumbs.

"Wait, what?" you asked, and Bradley told you the entire story. By the end of it, you were cracking up. "Oh, that's hilarious, Roo. I've got to text Jake."

"He said you would think the whole thing was funny. And I guess that's just one reason why I'm marrying you. Because you don't think I'm a complete disaster even when I am."

You looked up from your phone. "Bradley. You're never a disaster."

He shrugged and you wrapped your arms around him again. "I just wanted to surprise you with something you would like, Sweetheart. You were so good to me when I was healing, always making me food and taking care of everything around here."

You looked up at him and smiled. "I think going with Jake was probably your first mistake. We can try to make a hot sauce here. Together. If you want to."

"I took notes. Miss Mabel was actually very thorough."

Bradley watched you skim through his notebook before you grabbed your car keys. "Let's go to the farmer's market before it closes and buy peppers."

You seemed to know what you were doing, so Bradley held your hand and carried everything for you.

"These are the little green peppers in my favorite hot sauce. Should we add them to ours?" you asked, pointing out some kind of pepper Bradley never heard of.

"Definitely, Sweetheart." He watched as you picked out a few more. When you got back home to your kitchen, he felt perfectly at ease as you read Miss Mabel's instructions out loud and put him to work.

Being around you was easy for Bradley in a way he had never experienced before. You laughed as he cut up the peppers and told you more about Miss Mabel's class.

"We should go to a Miss Mabel class together," you told him. "Jake can just fuck off, he's not allowed to be in a relationship with you."

Bradley laughed and agreed, and while you blended everything together, he signed the two of you up for a salsa making class at the college.

"Want to try the first bite?" you asked, offering the spoon to Bradley. He took a small taste, and it was good. Great, even.

"Incredible," he said, and you grinned when you tried it.

"It's perfect," you agreed, and Bradley played with your hair and kissed your neck as you made them eggs covered in homemade hot sauce for dinner.

-------------------------------

Just a fluffy little moment between these two (and Jake)! One more one-shot and then we dig into another series with these two if you can believe it....

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun fanfiction #rooster x female reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw x female reader

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thosewildcharms · 2 months

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Hi:) thanks to twol I fell in love with richonne and im watching twd and I couldn't tell when exactly they fell in love when do you think it was? When did they realize it? (I feel like rick knew it long before her in that 6x10ep he was like "finally" when they kissed)

hi! first of all let me just say I love the fact that you started watching because of richonne lol THEIR POWER. how are you enjoying both shows??

second of all, thank you so much for asking me this question, because it is one of my favorite things to think about.

I'm gonna start with michonne because I think it's way more clear cut for her. I have always personally believed that she fell in love with rick when he bit the shit out of that guy joe's throat in order to protect carl (and michonne and daryl for that matter). danai recently said this as well, - that while this was a subconscious turning point for michonne. I think this tracks, considering the show goes out of its way to use this moment to draw a direct comparison between rick and mike, michonne's ex/dead boyfriend. in her scene with carl in the immediate aftermath of the bite scene, she tells carl that it's important to know how her first son died: because his father gave up, got high and was too weak and neglectful to protect his child. she, essentially, tells carl that rick is the exact opposite of that, and that he shouldn't think badly of rick because of what he did (and in turn, shouldn't think badly of himself either, which is lovely), that instead of thinking of rick as a monster, he should know that what rick did was necessary. for michonne to lose her first child that way, only to see rick find a way to protect his family with both hands (literally) tied behind his back? of course she fell in love with him then. that moment on the tracks with rick right afterwards ("I'm okay"/"I know"/"how?/ "because I'm okay too") is also a direct comparison to lori. lori was horrified when she learned that rick killed shane. michonne, by contrast, is just grateful. she does not judge him or look at him any differently. she just loves him for it. and the way danai played it, I think you can see it on her face in that scene.

I do agree with danai that this was subconscious for michonne until the scene on the couch in 6x10. the look on her face is such a blatant "oh" moment straight out of fanfiction that it's pretty clear (to me, anyway) that while she was already in love with him this was the first time she allowed herself to see it.

rick I think is a bit harder to pin down. it's well documented by pretty much everyone and their mother (including but not limited to: the richonne fandom, yvette nicole brown, norman reedus, andrew's lincoln's mom, etc) that rick was, at the very least attracted to michonne and looking her up and down as early as the prison. but, I think he fell in love with her when they reunited after the prison fell, when he saw that she was able to reach carl in a way that he himself could not. a long standing concern for rick at that point was trying to preserve what was left of carl's innocence, and it was something rick struggled with due to his own mental health issues/his responsibilities as a leader. so to see michonne break through to carl, and even make him laugh on the train tracks and act like a kid again? I think that was everything to rick.

rick basically, quite literally actually, asks her to co-parent carl with him at that point (the "if you need a break/I'm done taking breaks" scene), and from then on treats her not just as his equal within the larger the group, but as a co-parent in the smaller family unit between himself, michonne, carl, and judith. he makes decisions for the entire group based on her opinion and her needs (such as walking to washington solely because she asks him to, and then agreeing with her decision to trust aaron and go to alexandria). it's where the shift starts for him.

but, I'm also inclined to think that this shift was subconscious for rick too, up until the moment on the couch, or maybe just before it. I say this mostly do the jessie arc when they first get to alexandria, which while sloppily done, basically boiled down to rick projecting all of his unresolved lori-shaped guilt onto a lori-shaped stand in. I don't think he could be consciously aware of being in love with michonne until all of those issues were resolved. notably, richonne get together the episode right after jessie dies, so I think that tracks. I agree though, that the way andy played that moment on the couch be seen as a finally moment. so my best guess is that he consciously realized he was in love with michonne during the (two month? is that right?) time gap betweeen 6x09 and 6x10. you can see in the opening of 6x10 that rick, michonne, and carl are really overtly domestic and settled with each other, so I think it's totally plausible he was aware of his own feelings by that episode before the couch scene. BUT I also think an argument can be made for him also having his own oh moment on the couch too, the minute he touched her hand. I think that's debatable.

anyway, I'm so sorry for writing this novel lmao. when do you think they fell in love with each other?

#richonne #the ones who live #twd #answered #i love them sfm

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daydreamgoddess14 · 9 months

Text

Support System pt. 4

MASTERLIST

CH1 | CH 2 | CH 3

Roy Kent x Reader

I'm on a roll. Roy Kent making me feel things 🥵 This one is a bit angsty but buckle up - we're getting to the good stuff soon!

Chapter 4

Some call it wallowing, some call it self pity, some call it licking your wounds. You don’t give a shit which one it is, you spend the whole of Sunday morning on your sofa under a blanket alternating between tears of shame and being angry at your own stupidity. In what possible world would former footballer and dater of models - actual, beautiful, magazine fronting models, Roy Kent, really want to kiss a single mum in their mid (cough *late*) -thirties? You honestly have to consider the fact that you’ve lost the plot. The fighting and arguing late last year took its toll on you, the split early in December actually helped, but also kind of… didn’t? And now you’re in a position where you can finally make the best of the separation and the first chance you get, you royally cock it up.

Andy has Lexie right up until you need to collect her on Monday afternoon, so you plan your week accordingly. Trying to make sure that you can avoid Roy completely for at least long enough for you to be able to laugh it off. Somewhere around Christmas would probably work for that. Annoyingly, the person you want to reach out to and talk to and cry to is Sara. You’ve exchanged a handful of messages about hangovers but you’ve not been brave enough to tell her anything. Don’t be hungover alone! My mum is cooking, you should come over. Late dinner today cos of the football. A new message appears. You try and put her off, there’s no way you’re going over there without a Lexie buffer. The match kicked off at midday, you’d put it on the TV and then turned it straight off when you realised how much the camera loved focusing on Coach Lasso and his coaching staff. Your damn body betrayed you every time the camera honed in on his surly face. You shuffled further under the blanket, content to wallow alone until another message came through, Please come. I know something’s going on, I thought Roy was going to punch a wall when I asked him if you were ok when he dropped you off. You concede - it doesn’t take much, the urge to avoid Roy was strong, but you didn’t want to have to avoid Sara as well. She sends you the address and an hour later, you’re walking to her parents house in the late March sunshine. Chief door opener, Phoebe lets you in and is instantly dismayed when you have to tell her that Lexie isn’t around today. She soon gets over it though, she’s got uncle Roy playing Princesses and Dragons. Sara ushers you straight into the kitchen to meet her mum.

“Oh darling! I’ve heard so much about you from… well Sara, Phoebe and Roy actually. And lovely little Lexie as well. Such a shame she couldn’t come, there’s always next time though. It is so lovely to meet you! Come in, sit down. Do you fancy a drink or is your head still a little delicate?” The dainty woman knocks you off your feet with her kindness and sweetness. It reminded you of being in your teens and finding the one parent of your friend group who welcomed you all with open arms, didn’t care if you all swore like troopers and let you sit in the garden all night with a case of warm cider cans in the summer. The home you could go to when you’d argued with your own parents, but still needed home comforts.

“It’s great to meet you. I might be tempted later, I could go for a cup of tea though? I’ll make them, you’re busy.” You get up and start making a round of tea for everyone, working neatly around Sara’s mum and laughing with her at the state of the ‘favourite uncle’ mug Phoebe insisted that Roy always use.

“Thought I heard you.” A deeper voice muttered from the doorway. You bite down on your lip and try to force yourself to act naturally. He'd obviously been there a little while, watching. The only people who knew what had happened last night were you and Roy, and you certainly weren’t going to shout it from the rooftops. You hoped he was on the same page.

“Try this love,” his mum hands you a spoonful of cheese sauce, you close your eyes and moan in appreciation - it’s incredible.

“God, that’s gorgeous. Can I have the recipe please?”

“Course you can. Remind me in a bit, I’ll swap you for that wonderful lemon sponge recipe.” In the other room, Phoebe calls her nan for something so she prods Roy out of the doorway so she can get through.

“How’s your head?” He asks once she’s gone.

“Fine, nothing a can of coke and three ibuprofen can’t fix.”

“Three? That’s specific."

"Tried and tested. Two isn't enough and four would get me in trouble with people like her," you point at Sara who's just come in. Roy sniggers,

"Her? No way, she's the biggest fucking culprit for wrongly medicating friends and family."

"Your knee got you to Nelson Road didn't it?" She queried, recalling the day he'd gone back after retiring.

"Yeah but half a co-codemol and a shot of whiskey can't be classified as a prescription."

"My slightly alternative suggestions are only for specific people. Not medically authorised." She hugs you and takes the tea gratefully. "Let me guess, three ibuprofen and a can of coke?"

"Bingo." You confirm and she sticks her tongue out at Roy. She can feel the tension in the air between you, a million miles from the laughter and glances you'd shared the night before.

"Mum wants you to lay the table dickhead." He tells her.

"OK," she looks to you, "come help me, I need to move it first."

"There's a cup of tea on the side for you." You tell him as you follow Sara out of the room.

Standing either side of the dining table, you and Sara look like you could be at war. You both pull at your end of the table, making it longer.

"The fucks going on with you two?" She whispers, leaning forwards.

"Nothing, just very drunk crossed wires." She looks very sceptical but doesn't push you. She does, however, ensure that you end up sitting next to Roy for dinner. Fortunately, he seems just as embarrassed as you and is reluctant to talk to you much. You're starting to think that it's not so bad, avoiding him could be easy if he’s going to help you out, until he starts drying the plates you've been washing after dinner and dessert.

"You don't need to do that, you're the fucking guest."

"Which is exactly why I am doing it." You carry on washing up in silence.

"Are we gonna talk about last night or what?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Probably should though." You stop with your hands in the sink, and turn to him.

"Roy, I was drunk and stupid and I apologise. I made a horrible mistake-"

"A mistake?"

"Yeah, I mean I must have been crazy drunk to think that I'm the kind of person that you would ever-"

"Hmm. I'd fuckin' stop there." You can't help but carry on,

"You're like ridiculously gorgeous - it's borderline fucking obscene to be honest - and I'm a normal, boring person and for a tiny drunken moment, I forgot myself. It was a complete mistake, I'm sorry. Now please, I'm begging you, please forget this ever happened." Roy looks stunned while you take the towel from him and dry your hands before passing it back to him. "See you in the week." You say softly, going to the living room to say goodbye to his mum, Sara and Phoebe.

The next day, you're rushing between meetings trying to eat a quick lunch, check your phone and book Lexie in for the Easter Holiday club at school all at the same time. When you see 10+ missed calls from Andy, your stomach drops to your feet. Your hands shake as you call him back.

"Lexie's not well, where the fuck are you?"

"It's Monday lunchtime, I'm at work. What happened?"

"I've called you loads, I-"

"I've been in a meeting, do you need me to come home, or is she OK with you? What do you mean she’s not well?"

"You should want to come home to her." You frown at your phone, resisting the urge to throw it in the nearest bin.

"Of course I want to come home to her, I'm her mum. However, since I'm also paying for a house alone now and everything that goes with that, I have to make sure I'm doing the right thing and not just what I want. We don't all get to do what we want, Andy."

"I get it, work is more important. Always has been."

"That's not what I said and you know it."

"No, it's fine. I'll get her from school and I'm sure you'll turn up whenever you can."

"Fuck you, Andy. I'm on my way." You hang up on him and start making calls to rearrange your afternoon meetings. In the depths of the underground when your phone signal gives up, you chuck it in your bag and lean heavily against the pushchair space. You roll your ankles, taking some of the weight off your feet for a second. The higher the zone number, the quieter the train gets so you're able to grab a real seat.

"Penny for 'em?" A gruff voice asks, sitting across from you. You look up and despite your mood, the situation and your Saturday night fuck up, you still smile at him. You wonder when he got on the train, how long he’d been so close to you.

"Hi. Lexie's not well, Andy basically said I was a shit mum for not coming home. So now I'm going home to be called a shit mum to my face. Happy Monday!"

"Fuck, wish I hadn't fucking asked. What's up with Lex?"

"Dunno, he wouldn't tell me. She's probably fine - you know what 8 year olds are like. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Had to go for a suit fitting." You can't help it. Your mind goes there, of course it does. It's been a shit few days. It's only going to get worse, so why wouldn't your brain reward you for keeping going by providing a visual representation of Roy at a suit fitting? Hands skimming over his body, a beautifully tailored suit. As if the standard dark jeans and t-shirt aren’t enough. You’re certain a suit would blow your tiny mind. You daren’t speak so settle for a nod. At the station, it’s pouring with rain. He sees your heels and straight away opens the passenger door of his car for you. “Come on, I’ll take you.” The domesticity of it is a little crushing, you’d bet it’s not all boring lifts to the train station and the park when you date models. More like champagne and sex on tap. You’d take a happy balance if such a thing existed, a domestic luxury of sorts. It sounded like an Instagram Influencer advert for washing powder. You direct Roy to Andy’s flat and take a couple of deep breaths before going to get out of the car. “Shall I wait?”

“No, no, don't do that. You should get back. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just bracing myself, that’s all.”

“Whatever he says, it’s a fucking lie.”

“How do you know?” You ask quietly.

“Let me guess, you didn’t care about him, drove him away, you’ll do the same to Lexie, work’s more important…? Am I on the right track?” You nod, looking down at your hands in your lap, already ashamed.

“None of that is fucking true. I’ve seen you, you’re… you’re pretty fucking brilliant. You and Lexie are perfect. In one ear, and out the other - don’t listen to a word he says.” He reaches across and takes your hand in his, persuading you to look up. “Don’t let him make you cry.”

“It’s you making me cry, you dumbass.” You laugh a little.

“That’s better. Go get Lexie and forget about him for the rest of the week.”

“Yes boss. Thanks for the lift.” He gives your hand a little squeeze and you dash out into the rain, trying to get undercover quickly.

Andy leaves you out in the rain for a minute or two. Of course, small punishments wherever he can. Noticeably, Roy doesn’t drive off and waits until he sees you go inside.

“What’s he doing driving you?” Is the greeting you get when you’re finally allowed in.

“We bumped into each other at the train station, it’s raining and I was going to walk here. Where’s Lexie?”

“Sofa.” He grunts. You take off your soaking jacket, your blouse underneath is no drier, with various wet patches making it transparent in places.You kick off your shoes and go through to what you presume is the living room - you’ve never wanted or been offered a tour of his flat before. Most pick ups and drop offs took place at school so you could go blissful weeks without seeing him. Lexie is laying on the sofa under a blanket watching a film, she visibly brightens at seeing you and scrambles to sit up. You kneel in front of her and gather her into your arms.

“You ok my little one?” She nods, her temperature feels fine and she doesn’t look particularly ill.

“Yeah, I just felt a bit poorly.”

“Been sick?” She shakes her little head. “Ok, shall we go home?” You put her coat on her, get both of your bags and put your wet jacket back on. She holds onto you limply and you know the 10 minute walk is not going to be fun in the rain. “Up you come,” you tell her, gesturing to your back. As soon as she’s got her arms looped around your neck and her little legs around your waist, you step up into your heels. Andy watches with no intention of offering a lift and no comments on the rain outside.

“Dad?” Lexie asks quietly.

“Sorry kiddo, some of us have got some work to finish.”

“We’re ok babe, we can manage.” You say firmly, you don’t want to argue with him in front of Lexie. Roy’s low voice in your ear: don’t let him make you cry. Fortunately his flat is on the ground floor so there are no stairs to navigate. You step out into the rain and start down the road towards your house. You only just reach the corner onto the main road when you see his car up ahead, pulled over. He nips out into the rain, walks up to meet you and takes Lexie off your back, she cuddles up to him while he takes her back to the car and puts her in the back. Without her on you, you can jog the short distance to the car and the two of you get into the front, your doors slamming in unison. You don’t know what to say. You stare at him as he starts the car and pulls out onto the main road.

“Alright, I waited. Don’t be fucking weird about it.” He mutters, reaching to the backseat and handing you a black sweater. You peel off your soaking jacket, so cold that you don’t give a thought to the state of your blouse underneath until Lexie draws attention to it.

“Mum, I can see your bra!” Lexie giggles from the backseat.

“Yeah, thanks honey. The rain got me.” You pull on the sweater, his scent surrounding you in an overwhelmingly wonderful way. It’s almost enough to distract you from the embarrassment of the wet t-shirt competition. Almost. He gets Lexie out of the car and carries her to the house while you get the bags. She’s soon off inside getting her wet coat and school uniform off, you hover in the small hallway next to Roy. “Thank you for everything today.”

“It’s nothing.” He tries to brush off.

“It’s not nothing, far from it. Lexie’s own dad couldn’t even be arsed to drive her home. Here,” you move to take off the sweater,

“Keep it. Suits you.” He says, halfway out the door. “See you later.” You're still watching the space where his car had been long after it drives off.

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #roy kent fluff #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent x reader #roy kent

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bunnieshoneys · 1 month

Text

WRITING TIPS🗣️

by bunny

hello and welcome to my soup. my letter soup. someone asked a very long time ago if i had any writing advice, and i said no, because writing is very in my head for me, but having thought about it there are some tips over the years that have changed the way i write! so

no. 1

youve probably seen this before. its what i call in my head the 70% rule -

- characters should never communicate more than 70% of what they feel to those around them.

70% is an absolute max, too. most of the time, characters interacting with each other should only articulate 50-60% of what they mean. think of your own life and how much you can struggle to say what you want, or say what you need. you can’t say it perfectly, right? it might be due to the strength of what theyre feeling, difficulty being honest, where they are. the likelihood of ever being to perfectly articulate yourself is low. utilise that, it makes conversations so much more fun to read!

no2

adding onto this, unreliable narrator should always, always (imo) play somewhat of a role in a narrative voice, unless omniscient third person is being used. i used to write a lot of first person pov, and now i prefer third person (growing up🤝🏻) but in third person a narrative voice can and still should be just as strong as in first person - tall ask, but its possible.

we are seeing the world through this character’s eyes: act like it. even if another character is a mess, if your pov character wouldnt notice it, the pov is going to be affected by that. they dont know what others are thinking or feeling. theyre guessing. and those guesses are going to be informed by their own experiences or perceptions of those around them, along with the world in general.

no3

show not tell. this kiiind of links back to no2 bc its sort of related to narrative voice. trust your readers to pick up on implications and read between the lines. every single interaction / scene has purpose - and it doesnt have to be clear!! i promise that even if readers dont get the purpose, they’ll pick up on the vibes🫵🏻

no4

you do not have to solve every plot hole or character flaw to show development. in fact id encourage you NOT to, especially if ur work is <30k.

i <3 toxicity and rancid vibes, so im a bit biased on this one. its definitely sort of an acquired taste. 😕✌🏻 but in short one shots (anything under 40/50k, id consider short, lol) fixing everything is unnecessary!! you can leave things unfinished! it makes everyone feel incredibly human and raw!!

no5

relating to no4 slightly, tension.

never never never show your full hand. theres always something left to be revealed! whether its about the world itself, another character, or someone’s motivations, it needs to be kept secret. riiiight until the end

(this is more for longform writing)

finally

world - your characters have to be casual about where they are, with little exception. the BEST aus ive read are where the characters feel casual about the crazy things happening bc this is THEIR normal, and its taken for granted so much but it really makes or breaks a work.

slang or language, reactions to stuff that we as readers might be alarmed by but they arent - think a burn in a hospitality au or injuries in sports aus - they might not be as big a deal to the characters since this is their normal.

exceptions include charas thrown into ur world brand new / really big events - essentially you pick and choose where the biggest reactions are to events for plot🫶🏻

i feel silly typing this. anyways enjoy

#bunny answers #writing tips #ao3 #uuuh #yum?

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pythagoras180 · 2 months

Text

Why I Hate Adrien

So a few people have asked me why I hate Adrien so much. I've given it some thought, and I've realized that my hatred comes from 3 sources:

1. Adrien is a passive, useless character and a waste of screentime.

Adrien is a very passive character. He doesn't really have goals that he works towards outside of romance. He doesn't feel like a real person with a real life. He's just an object for the actual main characters to fight over. And to be clear, not every character needs to be active or well developed, but thei screentime should correspond to this. Adrien takes up a massive amount of screentime in the show. And since he ended up being worthless, I feel like he personally wasted my time by appearing so much. His screentime could have instead been used to develop the other characters.

2. Adrien is a creator's pet.

While Adrien doesn't really do anything in the show, I think I still may have felt bad for the character if I felt like this was because the writers didn't like him or something. Thing is, Adrien is the complete opposite, as the writers are clearly biases *for* him at every turn. He's almost always portrayed as right, even in situations where he clearly isn't. "Chameleon" clearly portrayed his "advice" about Lila as good, even though anyone with basic respect for their peers wouldn't be okay with letting them be lied to. There's episodes like "Kuro Neko", where Adrien is very clearly in the wrong amd being unreasonable, yet he's still clearly framed like we're supposed to feel bad for him. Part of the reason he has so much screentime is because the writers love to insert him in every situation they can. Even his status as a passive character can be considered as the writers favoring him. They think he shouldn't have to do anything because he's such a precious boy, so everyone should just do everything for him. I'm not inclined to like a character that I feel is getting special treatment just because of who they are.

3. Adrien does horrible things.

Those last 2 points definitely provide potential for me to dislike a character, but I don't think it's possible for me to actually do so if that character hasn't done anything wrong. Well, despite what the writers want you to believe, Adrien has absolutely done a lot of horrendous things. There's the fact that he continued being friends with Chloé despite her remorseless bullying of Adrien's "friends". He keeps trying to date Ladybug despite her repeatedly rejecting him, to the point where it's straight up harassment. This culminates in "Kuro Neko", where he quits his job of protecting the city because he keeps getting rejected (again, this is portrayed as symptomatic). Like I mentioned before, he tells Marinette to let Lila continue lying to everyone else. And why does he do this? I honestly don't know, and neither does anybody else. There's no rationalization for this moment. But the point is, Adrien put Lila above everyone else for some reason. He also emotionally cheated on Kagami, hurt her feelings, and barely cared afterward. He didn't have to do anything to make up with her, that just worked out on its own. He tried to Cataclysm multiple people despite knowing that it can be fatal, and the only time he displays real remorse over it is when Monarch is on the receiving end. Oh, but he only feels bad for like a minute, then he's fine (I believe that that was just to make Ladybug's exposition about not being able to fix it fee more natural, he wouldn't have shown any remorse if that wasn't necessary). Oh, and then there's that one moment in "Passion" where he pretends not to know what the consequences of making a wish is and tried to convince Ladybug to let him make one. If she said yes, he would have sacrificed somebody else to heal Nathalie. The show has made it clear that this is morally wrong. To me, this is the moment where Adrien became irredeemable. Also, in the Paris Special we find out that Adrien became a mass murdering supervillain in an alternate universe because he's sad that his mom died. He didn't have any grander plan, not scheme to bring her back like Gabriel did. Nope, he just killed people because he was sad, that's how they presented it. I know that this is technically a different person, but the alternate characters from tbe special are meant to be pretty close to the originals, just with different circumstances. So I think this shows who Adrien really is deep down. So yeah, I think Adrien is one of the most despicable "good guy" characters ever.

So that's the reason I hate Adrien, in 3 parts. I wouldn't hate him nearly as much if it wasn't for all 3 components. Kind of a perfect storm really, and I don't think I'll ever hate another character this much, for this reason.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #adrien salt #ml salt #ml writers salt

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sdyd · 10 months

Text

* ALWAYS WATCHING OVER YOU. sentence starters from kaigan games' horror series, simulacra. change pronouns / tense as necessary.

now we are luminous, a bright star. all shall see us !

I've been trying to reach out ...

thank god I found this phone.

you are not worthy of respect.

poor unfortunate soul.

you're just like the rest, a sheep.

tragic. we can change that.

you think you can stop me ?

I have no use for someone who accepts the world they are given.

no one truly deserves anything.

I ate and entire pizza by myself in five minutes.

tell me I'm pretty.

material attachment is so pedestrian.

behind your glass screens, behind your black mirrors, is a reflection of reality.

we seek those with extraordinary influence.

you are lost.

it is easy to be led astray when you are so broken.

you deserve to be followed.

you looked through his phone ?!

he has the nerve to accuse me of invading his privacy.

you're the one who went out of line.

I am not even mad, just disappointed.

how are you feeling ?

can you stop being so emotional right now ?

you've got the wrong person.

I'm not who you think I am.

you're better than this, [ name ].

what are you rambling about ?

maybe he'll slip up and tell you something we don't know.

there's something on my mind ...

it's not my fault that she left you.

if you're obsessed with me, I get it.

there's something off about him.

it's too late for me.

she can still be saved.

do not trust its' words.

nothing is what it seems.

I saw him, then I blacked out.

it only reveals itself too its' chosen

he told you, didn't he ?

I am her as she is me.

if it is me you wish to see, so be it.

impressive. a worthy pretender.

you have seen through my mask.

do you crave the truth so badly ?

the material society is fading, a digital one taking its' place.

she did nothing wrong and nothing right.

is that how you've been feeling ?

expecting him to follow you is pointless.

your actions will carry weight. live with them.

fuck this silent treatment. fuck it so much.

hello, worm.

don't forget your headphones.

no more losing, only growing.

when you look into my eyes, you can see it looking back.

join the fun !

worms, how are we feeling today ?

my followers are my puny worms.

there is no end or beginning.

we will never be separated.

pretender.

soon, this will become your reality.

hola chikas !

grovel as we consider your divinity.

that old fool mistakeningly thinks he has solved this.

your concept of right and wrong eludes me.

your own suffering will lead you back to us

how does it feel when everyone leans on you for guidance ?

don't compare yourself to me. ever. you're not on my level and you never will be.

don't you kids link everything to the cloud these days ?

are you having a stroke ?

who's going to believe us if we said some face - tearing monster killed them ?

I'm not a cartoon rabbit.

life hurts a lot more than death.

yes, a person was ruined.

this is not your memory.

I was lost and you sensed my need. I followed your path and you kept me from falling.

you need a form. a new body, a new face. a true face ... I will do this for you.

what is the current status of the investigation ?

[ name ] appears to be on this alone.

focus, please.

tell me, what do you see ?

step, seek, and proceed.

your path is coming to an end.

tell me, what do you doubt ?

find the truth.

my perversion fails to deceive you. you have seen through my mask.

what's the worst that could happen ?

we will never be separated.

you showed me that the human heart can hide so much more.

you have given me a great gift.

why won't you just let him be happy ?

this cannot be !

you and I are not that different.

I'm really scared. I've been trying to reach out.

I asked for your name.

then who will save me ?

it's getting harder to think.

I need to get out of here !

help me defeat this thing, [ name ] !

I'm right here. you won't go through this alone.

you should go.

it's up to you now.

promise that you'll remember me ?

I'm glad your here.

the only way forward is to disappear.

who am I to deny their wish ?

no one deserves that.

I should have paid more attention.

I valued my own ambition over their cries for help.

I forgot who I was.

is it really that easy ?

everything is slipping away.

you really think I can do this ?

embrace your sins.

you wear the face of a ghost.

you're unable to exist without something to latch onto.

GET ! OUT ! OF ! MY ! HEAD !

I don't know what to say ...

you pulled me back. thank you.

that's what partners are for.

I'm not letting you go that easily !

thanks for believing in me.

we've got so much to talk about.

I'm not afraid anymore. I feel clarity.

don't deny its' voice, let it through.

I just embraced the truth.

I'm here. I'm not leaving you.

you've seen the damage I can do.

no one deserves that.

you're safe, you're with me.

now, where were we ?

I can't lose you too !

I'm on my way ! just stay on the line !

you can do this.

#sentence starters #rp prompts #rp memes #rp meme #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts

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thenightfolknetwork · 3 months

Note

Due to a combination of bad genes and bad luck, I suffer from various physical and mental difficulties and pains. Technically I count as disabled, but the term has never felt right for me; it doesn't FEEL like the problem is in my body and brain, even though I know it is, it feels more like the world rearranges itself to be just a bit harder for me than for other people. This isn't something I've talked about much, it's always seemed like it would be horribly rude, plus I have more important issues to work on with my therapist than "how much a particular word does or does not match how I parse my subjective experience".

Then I came across an expression, and for the first time, something felt like it fit. "Cursed by a wizard". It's not that I lose energy quickly, it's that I've been cursed with fatigue; to give one example. I know it's not literally true. Even aside from my diagnoses and symptoms and treatments, a year or so back I got screened as part of a workplace health and safety initiative, and no curses. Still, it's not like the language we use is literally true all of the time; expressions exist for a reason.

You know how it is, whenever you find something cool and new, you want to share it with everyone. Nobody else cared as much as I did, of course, but general reactions were polite, "I'm glad you've found something that works for you". Except for one person, who immediately got a Look on her face -- the kind you get when a foreigner says a word they don't know is a slur over here, or when someone bad-mouths a person they don't realize is nearby -- and changed the subject.

I'm not going to change how I think about myself. "Cursed by a wizard" is a useful mental framework. However, my question is whether it should stay solely within my own mind. I'm worried now that it might be insensitive to people who've actually been cursed, or to wizards.

Thank you for getting in touch, reader. I have one small point to make regarding the start of your letter, particularly regarding the word “disabled”.

To be clear, you are absolutely entitled to your own personal relationship with the term, and I don't mean to suggest that you need to adopt it if you don't feel it reflects your experience. However, I don't agree that “the problem” is in your body and brain. It is, as you say, in the way the world is arranged to make life that much more difficult for you.

A framing I have seen from some disability activists is to speak of themselves as disabled by society, rather than by their condition. They don't consider disability to be a trait in and of itself, but a condition put upon them by an ableist society.

I don't know if this framing is a helpful one for you personally, and as I said, I don't wish to tell you how you “ought” to describe yourself. But I wanted to mention it as a possible alternative way of thinking, in case it proves useful to you.

But that, I know, was not the point of your letter. Unfortunately, reader, I don't have a clear cut answer for you. People who have been cursed are not a uniform group – neither their experiences, nor the way they speak about those experiences, are identical.

The fact is, yes, some people will be offended by your use of “the wizard's curse” to describe your experiences. Others will find it an expressive, even entertaining way of viewing your situation.

You also run the risk that some people will simply not understand the metaphorical nature of your statement, so please be prepared for those well-meaning folk who hear this and immediately start recommending salt baths and smoke cleanses.

I can reassure you that this is not a term that carries any particular historical reason to avoid its usage – it isn't comparable to such out-dated idioms as referring to public outcry as a “witch hunt” or the use of the phrase “Frankenstein's monster” when speaking of a messy, difficult situation, and implicitly associating reanimation with negativity and failure.

Instead, it is rather like the English language use of the word “slimy” to mean “dishonest” or “morally corrupt”. Certainly some people see the usage as offensive, but it isn't actually rooted in any specific anti-liminal sentiment and those voices are the minority.

In fact, some people argue that it is more offensive to assume “slimy” must somehow be associated with people of viscosity. But I think we are getting rather into the weeds of what is, to be honest, a largely online debate with very little real-world application.

In short, reader, it is up to you how you proceed. You need to decide for yourself whether you're comfortable with the ambiguity of your language and with the diverse ways you may be interpreted.

There are rarely any clear cut answers on the topic of language, and it may be that your feelings on the matter change over time. But the fact remains that only you can decide how best to describe yourself, and only you have the power to make this decision.

#the nightfolk network #monstrous agonies #answered

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starman-jpg · 9 months

Text

Better to Die Numb, Then Feel it All

WC: 1.9K | TW: alcoholism

I have no idea where this idea came from, but 5 hours later, here's this piece.

I actually do not know much about alcoholism. Diane is based off of my own therapist and how she has helped me through difficult times.

This also not beta read, its 1 am, I need sleep. Hope you like this

Title from "Growing Sideways" by Noah Kahan

No one seemed to realize how Steve had changed.

His hair is grown out and hasn’t been styled for months. The bags under his eyes keep getting bigger after every sleepless night. He’s lost a couple pounds and sticks to wearing baggy sweaters and sweatpants. And he drinks. A lot. Even at his peak of high school popularity, he never drank as much as he does now.

Everyone tries to bring it up, but he shrugs them off and redirects the conversation. And every time, the person takes the bait and plays with it. He’s out of the spotlight until it gets brought up again, but he can do the same thing. Over and over again. Works every time.

He knows what he’s doing is unhealthy. But he can’t stop. It’s impossible.

It all hit rock bottom when he screamed at Eddie. His Eddie. His perfect, beautiful boyfriend, Eddie, merely suggested Steve get help. Steve yelled, trying to convince Eddie (and maybe himself) that he was fine. That he doesn’t need Eddie’s help and he should just leave if he doesn’t want to "see Steve drink himself to death".

So Eddie left and didn’t come back. The days turn into weeks with no response from Eddie.

After a month, he finally reached out for help.

He ended up running to the Hopper-Byers house, sobbing. When the door opened for Joyce, he fell into her arms and begged her to help him. Hopper talked to Owens and got the help Steve needed.

"And now, I’m here." Steve shrugs, picking at his sweater, slowly lifting his head to see his therapist, Diane.

Diane was a sweet lady. She was in her late 40s with shoulder-length, sandy brown hair and a pair of square, black-rimmed glasses.

She smiles sweetly and says, "I’m glad you are here, Steve."

Steve shifts uncomfortably, bringing his knees to his chest. Well, I wish I could say the same." He mutters before realizing she heard that. "Sorry, I-I shou-"

"No, no. Don’t say sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Were you not listening to what I said for the past 15 minutes?"

She softly laughs, saying, Yes, Steve, I heard you. Those things were not great. But considering what you went through in the Upside Down, I can see why that happened."

Steve looks at Diane in shock and says, "Y-you know? About the, uh…"

"Upside Down?" He nods, and she smiles, saying, "Yes, I know. I was one of the many scientists working under Dr. Owens. My focus was more on the psychological effects of the Upside Down. I also happen to be a certified therapist. So, when Dr. Owens asked for my help with an Upside Down survivor, I gladly took it."

"An ‘Upside Down survivor’? Is that what we’re called?"

"Unfortunately, yes. We don’t exactly have the correct term to refer to you all as."

Steve slowly nods, putting his feet back on the ground. "We just call ourselves the ‘Party’ as a whole. But then, if we’re split up, each group has their own name." Steve smiles slightly and says, "Like in 1985, my little group was called ‘Scoops Troop’. Because me and my best friend Robin worked at Scoops Ahoy before—well, y’know."

"I do know." She quickly writes in a notebook before turning back to Steve and asking, "So, the Party? Tell me about them."

And that’s how these appointments worked. Every Tuesday, he pulls up to Diane’s office and talks to her. About the upside-down and all the head trauma. His fears and his hopes He even talked about his childhood and how his parents were always gone.

Although not all of the appointments were that easy,

He made a deal with Diane. If he could go a week without drinking, she’d tell him one thing about her. (It was weird how he was pouring out his heart and soul, but he didn’t know a thing about her.)

"Steve…"

"I saw him yesterday when I went to pick up Max for a sleepover." He sniffled. "Max was talking with him, and he looked so happy. And I thought about how I could never make him happy." He sighs, wiping his eyes. "I tried to wave. He turned his back and walked back inside. I dropped Max off, and then I remember being in a bar. Ordering a drink, which turned into two and..."

He can’t stop the tears this time. "I’m sorry. I-I failed. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." He hides his face behind his hands as he sobs.

He hates that he failed. He’s so used to being the screwup, and this one time, he knew he could make it. He only had one more day. He could’ve made it. Even with all the close calls early in the week, he managed to push them down.

He wanted to prove that he could do it.

He needed to prove that he could do it.

"It’s okay, Steve. It’s okay." Diane softly soothes.

"I failed though. I drank."

"That’s okay-"

"It’s NOT okay! How could you say that?" He yells.

"I did not expect you to win this challenge."

"So, you’ve already given up on me? Fucking great! My own goddamn therapist doesn’t even believe in me." He stands up, pacing the room and biting his tongue. He didn’t want to say anything he’d regret.

"I did not expect it because it’s not that easy. You expected to give up drinking and suddenly be cured? That’s not the problem."

Steve stops, slowly turning around to look at his therapist. "Isn’t that the problem? The drinking? Isn’t that why I’m here?"

"The drinking is how you deal with the problem. And you’re here because you want to be better, right?" He slowly nods, sitting back down on the couch. "Then let's figure out the problem."

---

Steve kept up his appointments. Never missed one.

Everyone could see how he was becoming Steve again. He made amends with the kids and with Robin. He never realized how he pushed her away along with everyone else.

When he showed up on her doorstep, paper in hand, to make amends, he was bombarded with a hug and the gentle sobs of his best friend. His other half His Platonic soulmate with a capital P Steve explains what he’s been going through and how he's getting help.

"I’m 4 months sober, so that's good."

"That’s so good, Steve. I’m so happy for you." She hugs him and doesn’t let go for quite literally hours. They caught up. There were two months without his soulmate; he needed all the details. e

Robin plans a movie night at his house (typical). She invites the kids, the teens, even Hopper and Joyce, who politely decline but still drop off El and Will.

Everyone was there, except Eddie. He wasn’t surprised. If he were Eddie, he wouldn’t want to see him either.

But, of course, Eddie needed to make an entrance. The front door slams open (the door handle definitely leaves a mark on the wall) as Eddie steps in. He’s as beautiful as always. His worn-out Metallic shirt with some black jeans His hair was tied back, showing off his jaw and neck.

Steve nearly forgot how to breathe. How did Eddie still take his breath away?

Everyone greets Eddie with smirks, hoisting up sodas for the kids and beers for the adults.

Steve felt his stomach drop to his feet. He hasn’t kept alcohol in his house for three months now. There was a bottle stashed in the back of his closets "in case of emergency". He threw it out after calling Diane one night during a particularly horrible day.

Robin must sense his discomfort. She grabs his hand, squeezing once before asking Eddie for a soda. Jonathan, Argyle, and Nancy Eddie handed out the sodas to the kids with loud pleading from Mike for just one beer, which Nancy was not having.

He hears the familiar sound of a can opening and watches as Nancy takes a sip from her can. He didn’t think this through. He forgot that even though he stopped drinking, that didn’t mean everyone else did as well.

"You want one?" Steve snaps out of his thoughts, turning his head to Eddie holding up a beer can.

Steve stares at the can wantingly.

He knew this was going to happen. Everyone didn’t really notice how bad Steve’s drinking was. They just knew he drank a little more than usual. He should’ve said no alcohol was allowed. He should’ve just told everyone how bad his drinking was, and now he’s sober.

Eddie must take his silence as a yes, because he’s holding out a beer to Steve.

This is it. He’s going to break his sobriety because the literal love of his life is handing him a beer.

Shit.

He’s going to have to call Diane and explain how much of a failure he was. He can’t even be properly sober.

But she would calm him down and repeat a million times how he wasn’t a failure. He knew that recovery would be hard, but he still decided to do it. And how he’s made it four months now without drinking. And how that is such a big step alone in his recovery. That he did the right thing by calling her.

"Steve?" Robin’s soft voice breaks him out of his thoughts as she gestures to Eddie.

Steve looks over at a confused Eddie, still holding out the beer.

"Oh, um, I’m good."

Eddie has the decency to look surprised as he retracts his arm. "You’re good?"

Steve stops to think. He’s sober. He’s happy. He’s recovering.

He has Robin by his side. And Diane is just a phone call away if he needs her.

He might not have had Eddie. He might never have Eddie again. But he can live with that. Eddie deserves to be happy, and if that’s not with Steve, that’s okay.

He smiles and nods, saying, "Yeah, I’m good."

Eddie smiles slightly at Steve, puts the beer back, and grabs two sodas. Eddie places the drinks down and hands a soda to Steve before sitting on the other couch. Steve looks ahead as the movie starts, but he can’t help stealing glances at Eddie.

And it gets better when he sees Eddie stealing glances himself.

---

He told the Party that night about his recovery. That he’s 4 months sober. It’s a tough process, but he’s going to see it through.

The kids hugged him, then unanimously agreed to throw out the rest of the beers. The adults agreed to stop drinking even after Steve’s loud protests that "it’s fine if they drink, just maybe not around him?"

It was a little easier to stay sober after that night.

Months pass. Steve’s still sober. A whole year now.

No one left his side, not once. Not even Eddie.

After 7 months sober, Steve took a chance, asked Eddie out, and was pleasantly surprised when Eddie said yes. They’ve been back together ever since. Eddie is his #1 supporter.

Three months later, Eddie told him, "I love you," and he felt the same spark he felt back then.

One year later, Steve and Eddie move in together in a small house near the trailer park.

Two years later, Steve and Eddie get married. Not officially, but who needs some bullshit government papers when they’ve already been to hell and back with each other?

It hasn’t been an easy road. Recovery never is, but he has Eddie. He has Robin. He has the kids. He has Hopper and Joyce. He’ll be okay.

After all, Steve still sees Diane. Every Tuesday.

#steve harrington #tw drinking #steve harrington gets help #steddie #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #eddie munson #established steddie #robin buckley #platonic with a capital p #platonic stobin #stranger things s4 #stranger things #post stranger things s4 #steve harrington doesn't take care of himself #drops this and runs away peaking through a bush

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k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl · 5 months

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im just going to put a little rant about my personal life here, not really expecting anyone to read but this is like therapy i guess lol. this is about a recent ex and i need to vent but i have no one that isnt neutral in this so here ya go tumblr

I recently broke up with a partner after we met in person for the first time and I've been telling everyone that it was a mutual decision and that we just weren't compatible and all that but honestly i need to fucking rant about it because it really fucking wasn't tbh. She was my first ever relationship and i was still pretty early in my transition (pre hormones) when we started dating long distance, i was obviously super fucking happy and it was pretty good for a while, we didn't talk as much as i would have liked and she wasn't super affectionate but it was fine, she introduced me to being poly and ill always be thankful for that. We met up in person this year, polycule met up. she was staying in her other partners room and i in my other partners room, i was rotating sleeping in each room so i got to spend that time evenly with both of them. after like 3 nights i was with her and her partner in bed going to sleep when her partner couldnt sleep because of a loud cricket and it being fairly warm, (me being aussie didnt really mind,) she had this little rant about not being able to sleep and it felt fairly targeted at me and then suddenly i was being "asked" to leave so she could sleep. in the middle of the night, i was completely naked except for my panties and i couldnt just go to the couch because we had a persons mum staying out there (unrelated) so i was suddenly kicked out of sleeping with my partner by her partner with 0 defence or even a goodbye, i seriously considered sleeping in the bath or on the floor i was so hurt but i snuck into my other partners room, waking them both up and feeling even worse for it. After this incident i was too scared to try and sleep in with my ex again because that room was no longer a safe and shared space if i could just be kicked out in the middle of the night mostly naked. Not once did my ex offer an alternative arrangement or a way we could share a night together to help.

Following on from this my ex and her partner were hanging out a lot, i wasn't confident driving in america just yet (and obviously didn't have my own car) so i couldn't really spontaneously do things with her the way she seemed to love doing with her partner. i didn't get too disheartened by this because obviously we could just plan stuff in advanced...well i tried, multiple times, i asked if we could go on dates and she just never got back to me (i was very anxious so pushing on this was hard and probably didn't help but still, i shouldn't have to do all the fucking effort) I had multiple talks with her about how i felt like we didn't have a shared space to hang in and we should plan some stuff to do together because of it, she seemed to agree each time and then again nothing changed. I was getting real self conscious and afraid, did she just not love me after meeting in person? did i do something? did something happen that i don't know about? but she said nothing like that happened and she was just tired from traveling and needed a lot of time to herself (btw she always would take this "self" time in her partners bedroom.....the one i had been kicked out of previously...) honestly this went on for longer than it should of, one of the big red flags looking back was when i had a big talk with her about i want to hang out with her more, even if its just in the same room doing different things, i wanted to just be near her even if we weren't doing anything ya know. the literal next day after this talk i asked her if i could come hang out (in the bedroom) with her. she replied with a no....the day after this talk and it fucking devastated me. i felt so rejected and hurt, like how could she just say no like that when i just told her how hurt i am that we don't do anything together.

a lot of other problems came up in that house during the trip that i wont really go into but as the weeks past she seemed to consistently choose her partner over me time after time, there would be days where we just wouldn't talk, i would try and look her way and get a "good morning" or anything but it just felt like nothing in return, honestly it felt like we weren't even friends let alone partners of over 2 years. and i admit, i withdrew from her fairly hard, i was scared and afraid and i couldn't deal with it anymore after trying and trying to fix it so i decided that id just let her "take the lead" on how she wanted the relationship to go hoping that this was just a phase and she was just nervous....nothing changed.

Because of us lacking a shared space we rarely got to have any intimate moments (not even talking about sex, im talking cuddling to sleep or waking up together, basic shit) and i just assumed she was like that because we had talked about her being on the ace spectrum and all that, but then her partner would keep bringing up cute or sexy things they had done together....mainly dumb stuff and fooling around together, cute relationship stuff that i was getting none of, nothing at all, barely even kisses. One night we were pretty high and one of these situations came up and they were laughing and being embarrassed about it and just talking as if it was normal and something they do all the time, i had to hide in the bathroom and cry it upset me so much, up until this point i didnt know this was happening, she had said she didnt want to do this stuff at all and shes just doing it with her other partner? again was i not good enough? did i do something wrong? did she not love me?

This stuff kept happening, i felt like a secondary partner, only there when she wasnt able to be with her main, and even then barely at all. she denied it and said everyone was equal, that was always my understanding but nothing fucking changed again. nothing.

They would barely talk to us, we would often be out and they would just suddenly have decided they were gonna go for coffee somewhere and leave, no invite no discussing it with the group fucking nothing over and over. they would often smoke at night to relax and i was never invited out with them, never. they claimed it was an "open invite" just like the bedroom i had been actively removed from, but they would do it without saying thats what they doing, or they would sit on a chair outside only built for 2 people, making joining hard and uncomfortable.

I spent a lot of my nights crying, my other partner trying to comfort me without getting to involved, i had no idea what i was doing, i couldnt recognise that i needed to end the relationship and they didnt want to push that, it wasnt their place. they felt robbed of time with me because i had to spend so much energy fighting this fight and i was exhausted, i felt so unwanted and unloved.

Honestly im fucking furious, at every fucking corner she said she loved me and wanted to fix things and nothing ever fucking changed. we still share a friend group and i cant just fucking talk shit about her because then id feel like a cunt, i dont want to be that person but im soooo angry and upset, over two years together and it meant nothing, i dont care what she says about the memories, it certainly doesnt feel like she enjoyed my company or my fucking time. FUCK. Ive barely mentioned everything that happened, a 3 month trip is too much to vent out in a single post and this is already way bigger than i expected, i just needed to get it out that no im not fucking ok. i cant tell her because whats the fucking point now, and her partner would probably hate me for this rant anyway so fuck that, although idk how much i give a shit anymore, a lot of those nights were miserable and i can pinpoint the blame to both of them and it makes me so so angry and sad that i have to vent to myself on tumblr like this.

guess my first relationship ending poorly wasnt unexpected lol.

If anyone actually read all of this wow im impressed, idk why but good job lol. idk what else to say tbh. fuck i guess

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buckleydiazes · 8 months

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Hello fellow bylers, I saw some tags on a Stranger Things post by @biigiiiii making conjecture about being gay in the 80s and I thought, well my dad was a gay teen in the 80s, let me ask him! And it was originally intended to just be sent via messages but then I figured it would be easier to structure as a text post and idk maybe someone else would be interested in hearing his thoughts. All of this is his own personal experience, obviously that is not universal. Hopefully someone finds this interesting or enlightening in some way though.

Gays at Large

What was the general feeling toward LGBTQ people in the 80s?

Homophobia was bad enough that people did not give a second thought to it or how damaging what they were saying was. Between the AIDS epidemic and Raegan administration, homophobia was extremely commonplace and pretty ingrained in Western culture. It was generally more prominent in rural areas than cities — that much has not changed.

The Q Word

How does he feel about the word queer and has his feelings changed at all over the years?

Well, despite rampant homophobia, there had also been a lot of pushing for LGBT advocacy in recent years. The Stonewall Rebellion happened in 1969, which had a significant effect on American society. A year later, in 1970, were the first gay pride marches. For my dad, queer was a word that had already been reclaimed by many, and so therefore meant little to him. In his words, "I'm a queer? A [f slur]? Tell me something I don't know. What, are you going to call me a [hispanic slur] next? 🙄"

Knowing vs Awareness

Was he aware he was gay as a teen? No but yes. As with many who are considered different by society's strandards, there is always an undercurrent of Knowing that you are different. You understand, on some deep level, that you are not fitting the mold that you should be. But that doesn't mean you actively aware and thinking about it. In fact, a lot of people do their best to not think about it and pretend to be "normal."

In my dad's case, he knew he was different, but he didn't "have time" to think about it that much. There was other things going on in his life that made it easier to put thoughts of his sexuality on the back burner. And yet, despite this suppression, he still was keenly aware of other people's attitudes toward LGBTQ folk, which became a sort of sixth sense.

Hypervigilance is Exhausting

As a survival instinct, my dad was always on the look out for who was "safe" and who wasn't. My dad was not a particular flamboyant person and he was into more "masculine" interests (his career is in HVAC, plumbing, and electric, and his hobbies involve listening to the news and playing the guitar); this made it easier for him to fit in, but he still could not ever truly let his guard down. This became so ingrained that he sometimes wonders if his personality would have ended up different had he been allowed to be himself without fear. Fear is a powerful tool in shaping a young mind, after all. And it's also so very wearying. Eventually, he got to a poijt in his life where he decided to hell with what everyone else thinks and feels and he would be himself shamelessly because there's not enough years in a life to be constantly forcing yourself into a socially acceptable boxm

The Curse of Internalized Homophobia

But...what about internalized homophobia? Yeah, unfortunately, he very much experienced it. And, even more unfortunately, it found its way into his speech, throwing around some homophobic slurs of his own before he came out of the closet. According to him, he has known many a gay man who shared in homophobic language during their closeted/repressed years. I don't think I need to tell anyone how terrible it is the way society can coerce you into being part of your own groups oppression.

Birds of a Feather

Did he know any other gay people though? Again, no but yes. You might have noticed or heard about the concept of gay people flocking together before any of them even know/accept that they're gay. His case is another one for the books. There were definitely a few people he knew were closeted, though he never approached them with the topic, but it wasn't for many years later that he would find out how many people around him were LGBTQ in one way or another.

Funnily enough, he married my mom out of high school, and as it turns out, she's bi and trans. (Trans man, she/her, very complicated history with gender. Also they are divorced but still best friends.)

Stolen Youth and New Hope

So, what is the overall feeling of having been a closeted gay teen in the 80s? Well, like something precious was kept from you. Those experiences that cishet folk got to have, you didn't. So many of the formative experiences many have in their adolescence were not viable for LGBTQ folks—from openly having a partner to just being and presenting how you wanted to. And, like I mentioned before, he was left with a persistent wondering about who he would have been had the world been a better place. (This isn't even something unique to his time either, many LGBTQ folks of all ages feel like this!)

That said, he is still so glad to see the positive changes in the world. He watches things like Heartstopper and is happy that, at the least, he got to live long enough to see that sort of representation on TV. And I think that's lovely. (As a personal aside: fuck you @ everyone who bitched about Heartstopper being "too sanitized", gay people deserve all types of representation on TV. If you don't like a certain kind, move on to something else and let those that do like it enjoy themselves.)

So, yeah, there's all the stuff I talked to my dad about. If you have any further questions for/about him (or my mom perhaps), feel free to shoot me a message!

#stranger things #byler #obvs the target audiences here #his not having time to think too hard abt his sexuality would be so in line with mike i think #bigger fish to fry than an identity crisis lets just shove that to the back of our mind #lgbtq #gay #el dot txt

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