#i always need like 5 business days to process this image

[shakingparadigm]

What if Luka expects Hyuna to come like she did in his round with Mizi and he is plotting something.He has the trust of aliens,the love of the public and no one would suspect him to do something outside the box,far from the image he created of himself.Hyuna made her appearence in round 5 when we didn't expected it. If the round isn't entirely dedicated to Ivan and Till,this may be an option.He may confront Mizi and Hyuna,they may not be able to rescue Ivan and Till and not make it in time. Luka may not appear at all.

(Me overthinking things: OMG Akugetsu will cover Hyuna's song this must mean something | The other me: OMG I can't wait,this song literally suits him!)

(I like the style of your drawings,the way you use colors and the way you phrase things! When something about ALNST comes out I just wait for your updates! I can't imagine what will happen on tumblr when round 6 is out. And then all of us will wait for the next one over again XD)

Till the end.

TILL... the end...

Ok this is the worst joke I could ever make.

Oohh. Luka appearing in ROUND 6 would honestly be insane. I thought about him making an appearance in the short teaser scene before credits, but if he actually confronted anyone himself that would be so interesting. Imagine all 6 of them in the same episode... the same room... no way... the Alien Stage would be real...

Luka attempting to sabotage Mizi and Hyuna is such an intriguing concept. I do think he's figured out that Hyuna will be returning, he grew up with her, after all. He's most likely aware of her penchant for protecting people. He probably expects Mizi to come back for the only friends she has left, too. He couldn't do anything the first time he saw Hyuna after ROUND 5, but he might be more eager to get his hands on her now. If we get our first adult Hyuna and Luka interaction during ROUND 6 I'd actually go insane. as much as I hope for it though, I'm not sure whether or not it will actually happen. ROUND 6 already has a lot going for it. A final confession of love already makes for a heavy episode, but with Till's newly revealed backstory added to the mix? Mizi and Hyuna's attempt at a jailbreak? The whole video would probably need an entire week to be processed and even comprehended, especially if they want to go into extensive detail on each aspect. Still, though, if Luka interfered... if Mizi and Hyuna were unable to save anyone and had to defeatedly return to the rebellion base carrying the weight of their failure, well, I DON'T THINK I'D BE REACHABLE FOR AT LEAST 10 BUSINESS DAYS I'd have to go into hiding in order to cope with that. But who knows! The fun part about VIVINOS videos is that they're always gonna leave you fucked up in one way or another!

AKUGETSU COVERING ALL-IN. TILL COVERING HYUNA'S SONG. I've posted so many times about this day holy shit its finally real. It really does suit him! Do you think AKUGETSU is

1) hinting that Till is joining the rebellion

or

2) giving us the All-In cover as compensation for whatever bad thing is going to happen to Till

(or a secret third thing: he literally just did it for fun and we've just gone insane.)

Ahh thank you so much for enjoying my stuff! I'm so happy, everyone's been really nice to me as of late and I don't know what to doooo hahaha I'm just really glad to share everyone's excitement for ALIEN STAGE :)

You wait for my updates??!! oh no I'm so sorry 😭 I'm quite late at times because I've had some stuff going on (I've barely said anything about the April Fools actor au 😭) but hopefully I'll be free to go absolutely nuts after the release of ROUND 6 tomorrow!! If you're ever in need of someone to scream about ROUND 6 with my inbox is always open!! Thank you for your kind words!!

Can't wait till I get to hear from you again! :)

#alnst #alien stage #alien stage round 6 #asks

[mynameismad]

Please can I have some advice about making comics, specifically figuring out panel/page layout? Robber/Robert was beautiful and flowed so nicely

(Sorry, I know that’s a big ask, especially busy as you are! I would be grateful for even the smallest nugget of wisdom!)

Hey! I know you're specifically referencing Robber/Robert, but all of the tips I gave in my How To Draw Sakana series still mostly apply to the way I make comics!

I plot out important story beats first (and the ending) and fill in little jokes between those mostly on the fly.

Even though RR is mostly digital (unlike Sakana, which is totally traditional), I still thumbnail RR traditionally because it's easier for me to see the whole page that way, and really get a sense of how big each panel and each element within the panel needs to be. All other details are basically omitted at this point, it's really just figuring out page composition. I also write out the dialogue traditionally. Even if I have a good idea of what I want the characters to say in every panel, trying to come up with exact dialogue later in the process always spells disaster for me. So I try to figure out dialogue and thumbnails at the same time.

The 5 in 5 rule is still what governs my panel/page layouts! I feel like the last [5] rule is worded a little poorly: what I mean is that hands can also add a lot to character acting and should be present as often as possible to avoid having too many "talking heads" panels. Even if a page is dialogue heavy, at least having the character gesture with hands or even do a small task (like make coffee or something) during a conversation or monologue will be more satisfying to read. ALSO, BACKGROUNDS ARE GOOD. I know I'm in the minority of people who LOVE drawing very complicated backgrounds, but even a few little lines or shapes or colors here and there behind a character can keep them present in the environment. I always try to Avoid The Void, but it really depends on how important the setting is to your story. I only draw comics with very specific important settings for some reason lol.

RR is in an American comics format (so roughly 10"x15", which is a 2x3 ratio and can scale down to 6x9 for print.) Again, I think it's important to get as much of a sense of how the page will look in the thumbnail stage as possible, without bogging yourself down with too many details. Often characters will just be pegs with circles for heads (and in Rob's case, two little antenna lines that make him look like a cricket), but where they are and how big they are are most crucial. I'd even suggest thumbnailing two consecutive pages right next to each other so you can really see the flow from one to the next.

The rest of the pages only really apply if you're thinking about doing your comic completely traditional. Penciling, inking, and lettering DON'T need to happen on the same page/paper, but I'm used to that workflow so that's how I do it!

LETTERING IS STILL VERY IMPORTANT THOUGH. I'm sorry to be harsh, but there's nothing worse than bad letters on a great looking comic. If you're not feeling great about your lettering capabilities, I'd suggest taking some time with tutorials and practice to get something that really fits your comic style.

FINALLY, it's important to go out there and find comics that you LIKE and really study what they're doing, how they're doing it, and why it speaks to you. Currently I'm looking at a lot of Franco-Belgian comics, which are bigger than american or manga sizes, and CHOCK FULL of backgrounds usually. Some day I'd like to make something that looks similar, so I'm using every comic project I make as practice to get closer and closer to that style.

Anyways, I know that's a lot of images and text, so thank you if you got all the way through it, and I hope it's helpful! If there's something specific you're still confused about, I can always try to explain a little more. Thanks!

#askbox #how to make comics #tips #sakana

[avissapiens]

Jockbull Summer Week 4 Set C (3/12/23-10/12/23)

Model used is Onome Egger

1.

I have continued the trend of fasting+cardio day. It’s actually not that bad. What was bad was the decision to bake while fasting. It’s not that I wanted the food. I don’t eat most of what I bake. But I couldn’t realistically test things too much to make sure they came out well. Luckily they were quite good the next day. Only half of one. It’s still cutting season.

2.

I got two in again! The first one was just kind of a general muscle flash. Brain producing lovely images for myself. Who needs AI when your head is already so full of muscle.

The second one however was a deeper introspection done together with Abg. We’re both POC but in many senses we are atypical. And yet still the presence of stereotypes still kind of gets in the way of both of our minds, and in particular our muscular journeys. We are both dead-set on breaking stereotypes and still coming out on top, so that was the seed for this meditation. There’s a lot of stereotypes for Black folks. And I know they are nonsense because not only do I not embody them, but most of my friends, relatives, peers etc from back home don’t either. But every time that one encounters a situation where you do meet that stereotype in yourself or in others, you pause for a second. Because especially while living in a mostly white country, you become extremely aware of the fact that everything you do is a form of ambassadorship for anyone who looks like you and visa versa. Which is a shitty burden to bear. Even after coming from a background of Black excellence in the Caribbean, there’s still so many stereotypes that come to mind. The perception of black people being unattractive, or if we are, it can only be in a brutish, animalistic, unrefined non-aesthetic way that doesn’t adhere to societal norms.

The mental stereotypes of underperformance and stupidity. The lack of ambition.

So many stereotypes are strangely contradictory too

That we're just needlessly loud and confrontational all the time but still get portrayed as servile slaves.

That we can only be good at sports but still deserve to be excluded from them. That we can't perform well at anything else. The strange juxtaposition of the athletic achievement that many POC are forced into because they lack the resources to pursue other interests and the idea that Ethnic food is unhealthy, dirty. And the very real reality of unequal access and outcomes for healthcare. The idea, often reinforced within the community, that we do not belong in certain places. In certain professions. In nature, in the world at large. That we should remain forever in this conservative slave mentality while we exist in the west.

Frankly, I see muscle and hypnosis as ways of outgrowing and defeating these stereotypes. Of changing perceptions not only for me but for my community. Perception is everything because it means that those who come after can see something different for themselves.

3.

Anyway on a lighter note. Yup, we’ve entered an edging period. It always feels so fucking good after a full week of building that erotic energy. It takes you to new and darker places and makes you vulnerable to things you might not have been before. Sometimes thats good. Sometimes its dangerous. But even that danger comes with a certain appeal.

4.

Its been a rough and busy week working on the first comm. I have some ideas brainstormed with Jockrs for an avis abstraction, it’s just always a whole different story putting pen to paper. Wish me better luck for the next week.

5.

So this one’s been interesting. It’s less been a process of drafting and then sticking. More a progressive building of momentum. Incorporating more and more things until the morning and myself feels more whole. I’ve ordered a bunch of supplements to take. A bunch of skincare stuff to harden my routine. I’ve expanded my already existing routine and even incorporated some new concepts from the world of Looksmaxxing. Truthfully, there is this deep desire in me to grow so much more in so many dimensions.And the himbo programming has definitely made one of those dimensions my aesthetics. Not for anyone else’s pleasure but for my own. I already know i’m gorgeous to other people. I want to be brilliant for myself and to be able to use that element of me like a tool and a weapon.

#jockbull summer #JBS #jock #bull

[blonde-love]

The warmth of waiting... Day 1.

Summary: You try to strike a deal with the Murdstone brothers to improve the quality of the work of the children in the factory. While you are waiting for Mr. Edward, careless touches become deep actions, discovering the softness in that cold and metallic lady.

The bitter smoke of the first morning.

Warnings: Nothing for now. [You will have to wait for the rest of the chapters].

Parts of the story:

The warmth of waiting...

The warmth of waiting... [Day 1].

The warmth of waiting... [Day 2]. Soon.

The warmth of waiting... [Day 3]. Soon.

The warmth of waiting... [Day 4]. Soon.

The warmth of waiting... [Day 5]. Soon.

The warmth of waiting... [Day 6]. Soon.

The warmth of waiting... [Day 7]. Soon.

Autor’s Note: I think it took me a while to update, my apologies for that, I've been a little busy studying some things I need at university, but there are some advance chapters and some Gwen from In Fabric content coming soon if you're interested, so wait will be worth. If you'd like me to tag you in the next parts of this story you can leave a comment about that - although I'm still learning how to use this platform, I really feel like an old woman with social media sometimes -. As in all my stories, I like to remember that english is not my first language, so any constructive criticism is really appreciated!

That morning you woke up under the shelter of blankets with a very different aroma from yours, soft under your fingers, the light streaming in from the window in a way it wouldn't in London, this time warmer, softer.

With a groan of slight annoyance you sat up, taking some time to process where you were, remembering that you were not in your hometown, but somewhere quite far from there.

Although the room was not ostentatious, it had an endearing touch contrary to what you believed because of who it belonged to…

That woman with long black hair, as you were promised, with a skin as white as cheese, always dressed so neatly, the very embodiment of what was expected of a proper woman.

Although that was very far from the truth…

You couldn't help but think of the image of such a sinful book between her fingers, knowing very well the forbidden romance that lay between its pages, wondering how much she would enjoy it, if she would feel that warmth like you did the first time you read the work.

If you saw her just once, you wouldn't imagine that the lady would read those things, considered dirty and depraved by many, even more so if you put it into practice as she did or at least that's what she wanted, you assumed.

Another thought in your mind.

Jane Murdstone, as a lover. What a scene, but even more so if that recipient was a woman, it would be a scandal for sure, but something that caught your attention in a certain way.

You couldn't deny it, you had rarely seen people as beautiful as her; tall, imposing, dominant, with blue eyes that were as cold as ice but with a shine that could make anyone melt and…

"She is the embodiment of evil itself, a ruthless woman with no love for anyone, I tell you". Again some of the words of your friend from your youth echoed in your mind, releasing a soft sigh, putting your feet back on the ground.

If only that woman was a little different…

Finally you put aside the warmth of the blankets, placing your bare feet on the wood of that room, smiling softly as you observed that your clothes were already well ironed at that time of the morning.

You always appreciated those details, usually requesting that the maids not come into your room in London because it could affect your work, doing things as simple as moving a paper or two that could get lost and cost thousands, but you always appreciated that they left your things well ironed as it was something you never learned to do correctly.

You dressed, an outfit perhaps not as perfect as that of the lady hosting you, but certainly still adequate enough.

You hummed as you saw your reflection in the room's mirror, after that, tying the curtains to allow the light to flood the place completely, also opening the windows to let some air circulate.

Once everything was done, you took out a couple of papers that you had brought since you had them pending, the rest would arrive by mail within two days if everything went properly, praying inwardly that the idiots at the postal service would not lose it along the way.

You signed a couple of things, discarded a few others, satisfied with your own work before looking at the time, seeing that it was a little early, but your back crying out for you to get up from the chair you had been in for a while now.

A sigh left you, taking the box of cigarettes you had with you between your fingers, opening it to count the few that were left. Perhaps you would have to ask one of the maids to buy you a new one soon.

You left your room, once again realizing the very neat work that the maids did in that place, no trace of dust or cobwebs, no matter how minimal. That mind of yours could actually imagine the woman in black blatantly yelling at them if they didn't handle it properly. However, despite it being such a good job, you didn't see any people working at that time of the morning, looking rather… lonely…

Cautiously due to a strange nervousness about breaking the very calm aura, you walked down the stairs, pondering if maybe you shouldn't have stayed where you were...

You looked around the quiet room, walking down the hallway to another room, where you tried to open the door, realizing it was locked, letting out a sigh, thinking that maybe you were a much earlier riser considering the fast pace you had to keep up in the city...

You remembered the small detail that you were in a very remote area once again, thinking for a moment before deciding that some fresh air would be good for you.

The path of the previous day in your mind guided you to the entrance, where you opened the door, finding that it didn't have as many locks as your own house in London, probably not needing them in the quiet countryside.

Field…

Just by setting foot outside the house you noticed the difference, now closer since you were not in such a hurry to sign a contract, realizing that the air was much lighter, fresher, liberating, the green grasslands moving in small waves because to the cool morning breeze.

Your little appreciation ended quickly due to the sound of a woman clearing her throat, realizing it was the black-haired one, quickly closing a book, placing it on her lap and covering it with her hands, giving herself away about the fact that it was the same sapphic literary work that you had encountered the first time.

A small giggle left your lips at that, closing the door behind you, the woman raising an eyebrow at the interruption, somehow waiting for an explanation.

"Good morning". You greeted with a smile, a silence stretching between both of you until she finally returned the greeting.

"Morning". She let it out dryly and plainly, although her not-so-good mood characterized her, it seemed worse at that moment, not exactly being the most cheerful person during the mornings.

"I'm pleased to see you continued with your reading." Your tone of voice came out a little more amused than you expected, but you certainly couldn't quite stop the small giggle that threatened to escape.

"It's rude to snoop into other people's things so blatantly, I thought it was an accident the first time, but apparently it seems to be one of your bad habits". Was what she responded to you instead of denying or affirming anything, to which you shrugged.

"It's funny you say that, pretending to be someone so upright, with unwavering morals while… you read this". You whispered softly, moving closer to her and letting your hand glide in the air over her before your index finger lightly caressed the tips of her fingers before settling on the book.

The woman felt a small shiver run through her at your actions, the small discreet flirtation, but she remained impassive.

"It's just literature, a point of view of sinners to search for something completely different from me, it's… educational…". She lied, to which she could tell by your expression that you didn't believe her at all.

"Then you actually consider it a sin like many". You whispered before standing up completely, taking out a cigarette and lighting it, realizing that her look showed that she expected you to offer her one like the previous time, putting the package away on that occasion without doing so. "And here I thought you had understood the art of the story between the seamstress and the florist".

"You shouldn't smoke so early in the morning". She criticized you when you didn't share like you did last time, to which you let the smoke rise, the wind blowing and taking it in the opposite direction of where the blue-eyed woman was.

"Does it really make a difference if I consume it now or later? My lungs will pay the same bill anyway and you're not one to judge". You commented as you shrugged. "You were quite interested in the cigarette smoke yesterday too". You moved closer to her, your lips so close to hers. "Especially the one that came out of my mouth".

"That was not like that...". She moved slightly, looking away.

"You have to admit that you don't read these things for the educational side, or because you want to see a different point of view, but that you share theirs, am I wrong?". You asked what you already knew, it was too obvious not to be so. "You really are just as sinful as the rest of us".

"Just because you read this and are also one, doesn't mean that I am too". She said, a certain harshness in her voice, but if you looked closely enough, there was a certain shame.

"Maybe that would have been more credible if you had denied it yesterday instead of evading the question". You pointed out her small mistake, people would usually be shocked and seek to abruptly deny it if you even proposed it as an idea. "Be honest, you're interested in a member of the fairer sex giving you a lavender, aren't you?".

You took her chin between your fingers, that insatiable curiosity, that desire to obtain the answers that you even already knew always intense in you, always like a flame impossible to extinguish, without caring many times how invasive you could be, one of your weaknesses to the time to socialize with people, but at that moment you didn't care in the slightest.

"That's why you let me stay, isn't it? Why else would you let a seeker of the forbidden fruit stay in your house?".

The iron Lady usually had no problem with eye contact, being the other people who feared her and looked away, but right now not knowing exactly what to do with her mixed feelings, blaming her impulse from the day before for not throw you out when she had the opportunity to avoid this situation, but at the same time that desire in her to admit it, to just let herself go.

Her facade faltered for a moment, trying to look as if none of this affected her as she thought of a witty response, but her intentions had been exposed so easily.

"She is cold and metallic lady". At this rate you would charge David rent for spending so much time in your mind with the anecdotes he told you about her, although partly enjoying it to see how you were able to cause small cracks in those schemes.

"I would be lying if I said I didn't find you interesting, the angelic woman, cruel in the terrifying stories of many, but… with curious secrets". You said softly, the woman finally placing a hand on your wrist to move away from your touch.

"I'd tell you it's not appropriate, but you already know that, and I know you don't care anyway, so I won't bother pretending to talk some sense into you". That even tone of her voice had returned again, managing to remain as calm as ever, her free hand removing the cigarette from your fingers, bringing it to her lips, rising from her chair as she let the smoke fall onto your face. "It seems to me that the one desperate for the smoke from the other's lips is someone else".

She threw the cigarette on the floor after that, stepping on it in order to put it out, her attention was drawn to the entrance of the house when she heard someone open the door; a redheaded maid peeking out timidly.

"My ladies". She looked at the woman in black before looking at you and smiling slightly, Jane hastily releasing you and taking her book between her fingers again, making sure the maid didn't notice any part of the text. "Breakfast is ready".

"It's rude not to announce yourself before opening the door where you know a lady is". She scolded sharply, heading towards the entrance before stopping to turn to you with a frown. "That goes for you two, and I repeat, no smoking in the morning, I have nothing against you doing that, but if you are under my roof even as a guest, you follow my rules and that's one".

The maid tensed up as she heard her scolding even reach you, relaxing a little when the woman walked out of her sight, turning to look at you without knowing exactly what to say.

"Thank you for letting us know, you can take my portion to my room if it's not too much trouble". You said with a small apologetic smile.

"You won't eat in the dining room?". She asked innocently, to which you shook your head.

"I don't get used to it". You responded simply, her noticing your slightly dull smile, watching you pick up the cigarette butt, a look of pity crossing your face when you saw that it wasn't even halfway done. "And a glass of Whiskey". You asked in defeat, the young woman nodding, quickly entering to comply.

You weren't exactly the biggest fan of being talked to like a little kid who didn't know what to do, even if you realized that it was Jane's way of not showing weakness, especially in front of her staff, it bothered you.

Although maybe you deserved it for having put too much pressure on her thinking that you would be an exception to her bad character just because she let you stay as a guest.

You looked at the cigarette butt between your fingers, then at the place where she had been sitting before entering the house, lightly rubbing your wrist where she had kept her grip firm, remembering her words.

Maybe you should do a reevaluation of the information…

#jane murdstone #jane murdstone x reader #fanfic

[softsky-daily]

1/22/2024

Today's sky was carpeted by clouds.

Positive thing: Work was not very busy, and someone complimented my dress.

I did not have a good morning, since I woke up with this horrible anxiety that had been a very long time since I had to deal with. After it passed I was pretty much exhausted, and the tiredness followed me all day. But since I had done basically everything at work I needed to last week I had very little to do today. I mostly spent my work hours translating a Japanese 逃げ恥 fanfiction and looking up stuff about 日本三鳴鳥 (the three Japanese songbirds). There's a little green bird I always see depicted alongside Japanese plum blossoms so I wanted to figure out what it was. Apparently it's called the ウグイス (Japanese Bush Warbler) and is part of the 日本三鳴鳥 which are three songbirds that Japan is famous for. They all have a distinct song. I listened to it and it does have a unique sounding cry, although I don't really know much about birds.

(This is from Wikipedia.) Look at this little guy. She has a lot to sing about I'm sure.

Well now I'm looking closer at some bird information and maybe I've been mistaking the ウグイス for the メジロ (Warbling White-Eye). Birdwatchers got it rough, man.

(This is also from Wikipedia.) I can see why they called it "white-eye." They're both very pretty. I'm glad there's so many green birds out there.

Anyway, I indulged in my little guilty pleasure of watching those clickbait-y Tokyo vlog videos that are like "Top 20 Things You HAVE to Do in Japan!!!!" just because I do actually find them interesting and because I think it's funny to see what (clueless) tourists get up to. I always feel bad for everyone who has to walk around their selfie-stick vlogging because, speaking from experience, they are very annoying to walk around since they're always loudly talking to themselves and not watching where they're going.

The image these kinda videos give off of Tokyo and Japan in general is always fascinating to me. I agree Tokyo especially feels very modern and whatnot, but some people go far as to be like "this is straight out of a sci-fi novel" or "people here are so advanced". I think it's easy to forget that it's full of regular people and not some exotic land of mystery, which the thought process of just feels steeped in orientalism. Having been there myself I always wonder what they must've been seeing that I didn't, or what kind of point of view they had that I simply didn't understand. To me Tokyo felt huge and bustling but also cozy in a way, like becoming one with the crowd. And away from the city it's just so peaceful, like genuinely peaceful. But I think it's cool people can notice different things and have different experiences, even if I think some of their tourist behaviors are cringey.

Tomorrow my bosses and coworkers and I (which sounds like a lot of people but it's only 5 of us total) are going to get brunch at a fancy breakfast place, and my boss is paying, so I'm excited for that. Hopefully we can leave work early too.

#skyposting #thoughtposting

[laureliciousdefinition]

Wicked Game | pt. 6 | Javier Peña X reader

Summary: what a wicked game to play- to make me feel this way.

Rating: 18+ as always!

Warnings/tags: not much for this chap, other than angst.

A/N: our final chapter (minus the epilogue) has arrived! I’m honestly feeling really emotional about it- this is my first ever multi-part series and I’m really proud of it. Thank you SO much to anyone who has read it, left me kind messages, and given me so much continued encouragement. It means more to me than you’ll ever know! more ramblings on this at the end. For now, enjoy<333

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

6 days.

Specifically, 142 hours and thirty-four minutes.

(Not that you were counting.)

That was how long it had been since Javier had called you from the airport, and the gut-twisting feeling he gave you then hadn’t left you since.

You’d been through plenty of breakups in life, though most of them were in high school and the early days of college before meeting your husband. None of them could ever measure up to the way this felt; and it wasn’t even a real breakup. What the two of you shared was beyond that- you were two people who had become so intertwined in the messy vines of each other’s lives, but now Javier’s vines had been ripped out and torn yours in the process.

To make it worse- he hadn’t called. He hadn’t called like he promised, and you were stuck waiting by that damn phone like a fool during all your spare time. You tried to throw yourself into your work but your boss had dropped into your office for a quick word, seen your slumped over state at your desk, and given you a few days off to collect yourself. You told her it was issues with your marriage- not technically untrue. You were just exhausted from sitting up by the phone, cursing it anytime it rang and you didn’t hear Javier’s voice on the other end.

It was on day 7, hour 154, that you finally did.

“Javi?”

Your voice was rough, scratchy after several days of barely using it.

“Hey, baby.”

His voice was soft, almost whispering as if he didn’t want to be heard, but laced with a tenderness that ripped open the wound all over again.

For the first time with him, you weren’t sure what to say.

“How… how are you?” You asked hesitantly, restlessness seeping through your chest.

You heard him sigh. “I’m… alright. I’ve been staying with my pops, helping him around the property. Keeps me busy.”

Though you were still upset with him, you felt your heart thaw a little at the mental image of him and his dad spending quality time together. You knew from what he’d told you that they hadn’t gotten much of that since Javi left Texas.

A silence washed over you both, starkly different from the comfortable ones you always lapsed into. This was a heavy silence, thick and weighing down on your entire body until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why didn’t you call?” You asked quickly, trying to hide the wavering in your voice.

Javier hesitated for a moment. “I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to give you your space.” He spoke slowly, the earnest nature of his words clear. They didn’t do much to soothe you, however.

Javi, I didn’t need space, I needed you,” you pleaded. Why were you already about to cry? Why was this wound so much deeper than anything you’d ever experienced?

He sighed once more, but not out of frustration with you. Only himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I know that was wrong. I just… don’t think I was ready to face you.”

Now it was your turn to let out a sigh- a shaky one, one that willed your hot tears back from the brink of spilling. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” You waited a moment before continuing. “But you did, Javi.”

“Baby, please don’t cry,” he added quickly, hearing the crack in your voice. His whole body burned with shame- he never wanted to make you feel this bad. You didn’t deserve that, or any of this.

Sniffling quietly, you replied. “I’m not mad at you, I could never be. Not truly, at least. I just… you just left. It came out of nowhere, and I know your work life isn’t my business but I mean, my god, Javi. I have no one down here, and you left without a word of warning. That was… that was fucked up.”

The tears were flowing freely down your cheeks now, too many that were too persistent for you to bother holding them back. You’d only allowed yourself to cry that first night, but you’d spent the last week keeping it in as best as you could. It was like something told you that if you didn’t cry, it wasn’t real; but this was very, very real.

Javier felt his own throat burn, and it felt like every muscle in his body was straining not to cry at your vulnerable, teary words. He knew there was nothing he could say right now to fix this situation, no matter how badly he wanted to.

“I’m sorry.”

His words were nearly whispered, a weak response that he kicked himself for. You deserved so much more than that and yet he couldn’t find any words that did you justice.

A long pause sat between the two of you before you finally spoke.

“So… what now?” You asked hoarsely, not even sure how you wanted him to respond.

“When do you come back to the states?” He answered your question with another question, to your annoyance.

Your eyes flicked over to the calendar pinned to your kitchen wall. “My flight leaves December 5th. Why?” You asked suspiciously, knowing where this was probably headed.

He waited a beat. “You could.. come here, for the holidays. We’ve got plenty of room, or you could-“

You interrupted him, pain evident in your voice. “Javi, please stop. I- I can’t do that. I have to go back, go back to my life, my home. I can’t just pretend none of that exists.”

Your heart ached at your words. Of course you wanted to go to Texas and be with Javier again. He made you feel so complete- you’d spent the last few days as an unfulfilled shell of a human. But you couldn’t keep pretending like you had been doing in Colombia; when you left, it would all come back to you. The husband, the job, the house, the mortgage. No, you weren’t happy about it, but you couldn’t just drop all of it.

Right?

Javier kept his tone even, though he was stung a little from your rejection. “Just… think about it. Please? That’s all I ask of you. If you decide not to, you’ll never hear me ask again. But please…” his eyes shut, and his head rested against the wall. “Just think about it.”

You rubbed your temples, your whole body tense. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

Although the last few weeks that you spent in Colombia weren’t under the happiest of circumstances relationship-wise, things certainly had picked up at work. This was something greatly appreciated by you, enjoying the chance of a distraction after you’d been allowed back in the office.

The continuing investigations and attempts to catch Escobar had come to a height, which meant long days and nights clacking away at your typewriter as new information became available. Your agency had been churning out what seemed like hundred of pieces on the story, only several making it to the local news channels and the papers. It was becoming so intense that you almost considered extending your contract, desperate to keep contributing what you could, finally feeling like you were working for something bigger.

But just a few days later, only two short days before you were set to leave, you realized wouldn’t have to bother extending.

They finally got him.

Cheers had erupted through your office when the news broke. You couldn’t help but celebrate; this man had caused so much pain for so many people. Friends and family of your coworkers. You’d experienced four months, but this had been going on for the better part of their lives. You’d seen the devastation first hand- they all deserved to celebrate for a moment.

One of the receptionists darted out to buy a bottle of champagne, quickly stepping back in and popping it for everyone. You allowed yourself to indulge for a bit, but you slipped out early, seeking the comfort of your quiet apartment. When you returned, you slipped off your work shoes and sank into your couch, not bothering to turn the lights on.

You closed your eyes, reflecting on all that had occurred during your time in the country.

You though about how your agency had been amongst several to receive the photo of the agents posing with Escobar’s body, something that unsettled you but you kept to yourself for the sake of not ruining the party, and you spotted the blonde man in the middle. You knew it was Steve, someone you hadn’t met but had created a mental image of through several stories from Javi. He was one of the few people Javier seemed to trust, and knowing that his partner had been there should’ve made you feel better. But it didn’t- you actually felt worse. You knew how much Javier had contributed to the hunt. He’d collected so much intel, worked so hard for it all, even sacrificing his own career for the greater good of the mission. He deserved to be there when it happened, but he wasn’t.

Though it might be selfish, you thought about how much you longed to comfort him right now. You knew he was probably sleepless, stuck in his childhood home drinking his night away to numb the pain and embarrassment he felt.

You thought about how you’d tell him that he did enough. That this one mistake didn’t define his whole career. That you were so proud of him for all he did, though you knew he wouldn’t believe you. No matter- you’d pull him into your arms and let the embrace say what words couldn’t.

Against your will, you thought about his offer from a few days ago. You imagined that happy scene you used to find comfort in, the two of you spending the holidays together like you’d always wanted to. It would be so nice, so comforting- but it was unrealistic. It made you feel despondent; You couldn’t just get a divorce, it wasn’t that simple. None of it was. But… that marriage had stolen so much of you from yourself. How were you supposed to go back, when you knew your heart would never be in it?

A frustrated groan left you, laying your head back on the back of the couch. After staying this way for a few moments, you took a deep breath before rising and moving to your bedroom.

You dug your suitcases out of your closet and began packing your belongings back into them, just as you had a few months ago.

Though it was two days early, you’d had enough; it was time to go home.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

The airport was surprisingly busy given that it was nearing 1:00 AM by the time you’d arrived. Luckily, you’d been able to secure a last minute ticket, the plane taking off at 2:35 AM.

After getting your affairs in order for the flight, you made your way over to the payphone area. Your hands shook as you inserted your coins, anxiety rippling down your spine. Were you really about to do this? Was this a mistake, should you just-

“Hello?”

Your husband’s voice came through the dull speaker. Your heart began to pound so hard you could feel it in your stomach.

“Hey.” You breathed out shakily.

“Honey? Is that you?” He sounded confused.

You glanced down at the gold band around your finger. “Yeah… it’s me. I need to talk to you.”

The ironic parallel of this conversation happening in the exact same place that yours and Javi’s had was not lost on you. Perhaps someday you’d laugh about it.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

His voice was unfortunately relaxed, unaware of how badly you were trembling with the words you knew you had to say.

“Are you… are you happy?” You asked, closing your eyes.

“Uh… yeah? I guess? Why do you ask?”

You gripped the side of the booth, knuckles white.

“I’m not happy.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” He replied lamely. “You’re coming home in a few days, though!” He was so cheery and unaware and it made you sick.

“No… I mean, I’m not… happy. With us.”

No taking it back now.

He took a moment to answer. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you said, summoning all the courage you could find. “I don’t… love you. Anymore.” You inched the words out, and they dragged through your throat.

Silence came through. So long that you thought the call dropped until he finally said,

“Oh.”

“I’m so.. so sorry. You and I- we had a good run, and I-“

“Shut up.” He spat. You winced, knowing you deserved this. “Just- shut up. I can’t… I can’t believe this.”

Tears formed in the corners of your eyes. This was what you wanted, you knew that in your heart. But this was a relationship that, for better or for worse, you’d committed almost ten years of your life to. And though you felt a weight off your chest from finally telling him, you still felt rotten.

“I fucking knew this was gonna happen. I knew it. All my friends said you’d leave me but no, I never believed them. I always defended you.” He was angry, and understandably so, but it was honestly hard to process him showing so much emotion over, well… anything.

He continued, words growing more heated.

“I loved you. Maybe I wasn’t the best at showing it, but I did. I gave you a good life, wasn’t that enough for you? You know, my mom always said you were a greedy little bit-“

Panic overcame you and you slammed the phone back onto the receiver.

You inhaled sharply, allowing a few tears to run down your cheeks before you quickly wiped them away.

Eventually, you would have to speak with him again to actually get the divorce. But right now, there was only one person you wanted to hear from, and you prayed he was awake.

Fishing a few more coins out of your bag, you dialed the number he’d given you the other night. It was his dad’s home phone, and in the back of your mind you thought about how your mom taught you never to call a landline after 9:00 PM… but mom’s advice be damned.

“…hello?” Javier’s voice came through the phone slowly and groggily, clearly having been asleep.

“Javi.” A sigh of relief left your lips. “I’m so glad you answered.”

When he responded, he was noticeably more alert. “Baby?” Your heart tugged at the use of the pet name.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. It’s me.”

“What are you doing up? Are you okay?” His voice was deep from slumber.

“I told him I didn’t love him.”

Unbeknownst to you, Javier’s eyes widened. He rubbed a hand down his face, processing your words.

“Are you okay?” He repeated, this time with a different connotation. He spoke gently, as if dealing with a frightened animal.

“I will be.” You sighed. “I really wish you were here right now.”

His eyes shut, brows drawing in tightly. “Me too.” He said quietly.

You were both quiet for a moment before Javier piped back up.

“Where are you?”

You heard his bed creak as he sat up. “The airport. I’m leaving early, I can’t be here anymore.”

He thought carefully about his next words. “Where are you going?”

This time, it was you who chose to answer his question with a question. “That offer from the other night still stand?” A small smile played on your lips.

Javier spoke breathlessly. “Of course.”

A jingle rang out through the loudspeaker above you, signaling that an announcement was about to be made.

‘El vuelo 523 a Laredo ya está abordando.’

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

Well friends, that’s it for now! I have a small epilogue planned for this, but otherwise this is the end of the story. Once again thank you SO much for reading this series, your support means the world to me. I love Javier and this story so much and I really hope you can see that in my writing. I hope if you liked this that you’ll stick around, I’ve got some really fun upcoming projects!!! In the next few weeks I’ve got a Mando oneshot dropping, a new Javi series starting, and some Joel miller stuff which I’m super excited about! Things are looking good for September baby 😎

Tags: @iamskyereads @wildemaven @buckysthing

#javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x y/n #javier pena x you #javier pena imagine #javier peña angst #javier peña smut #narcos smut #narcos fanfiction

[dang-itshauntedinhere]

I Don't Love You, But I Always Will - Chapter 1

Summary:            

I watched The Exorcist with a friend and spent the entire time staring at Father Karras, so of course we crafted an elaborate story surrounding his and reader's life together. Falling in love with a Jesuit priest and watching his faith fall apart in front of you is not problematic at all actually, and your life in this story will proceed in abject simplicity. (Lies, slander) Enjoy!

Chapter 1 (You are here) - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Find also on my Ao3

Divider by @racingairplanes

Word Count: 4.5k

After marrying a man you believed would give you the life you wanted, you think love will be enough. You leave everything you know and love behind, believing this.

A/N: This story takes place throughout the late 1960s and early 1970s.

  Chapter 1: Leaving for Georgia

Summer in DC was always beautiful, you thought. Something about the blue skies and the shaking of the leaves always brought out something warm and exciting in you - the wind is what you really loved. How it seemed to finger through your hair and make you blush, how it reminded you of the tingling, scrappy feeling of returning home after a long day of roaming the streets as a kid.

It reminded you why you loved the city.

Chris was always up-front about wanting to move back to Georgia after the wedding, and you had agreed easily; his aging grandparents were there after all, and a tenure-track position as a professor of philosophy at the University of Georgia was nothing to sneeze at, either.

You’d spent your mornings on the phone with realtors in Athens for the last three months, leafing through the mail every day to find new flyers and catalogs. Evenings were for wedding planning and house hunting.

It had been so much organizing, though your contentment with a small wedding was an anchor, his southern family was too large to be modest. The money, through it all, had been distressing. Your new husband may have been wealthy enough to cover the cost easily, but you still weren’t used to the feeling. You were raised on frugality after all - this kind of spending was terrifying. You winced just thinking about the blank check Chris had handed you one morning. Like it was no big deal. You called him for every little step of the process, confirming every piece of the reception with sweat rolling off your brow.

You readjusted your purse on your shoulder. The noise of the busy street was comforting, but it didn’t slow the race of your heart. It felt like everything was moving so fast.

You took the long way for a reason. Your steps became a little slower, and you stopped to set yourself haltingly on a bench in front of your favorite corner store and tried not to think about never seeing its bleached yellow awning again. Smiling sadly, you took out the folded flier again.

—

You’d had your little list of hopes for a home. Space for a garden, large window sills for sitting and reading, steps to sit on and shuck corn or peel apples. You knew you wanted it to be small - cleaning a mansion every day was not on your bucket list. You knew you wanted stained glass in your door - something to stream colors into the hall and remind you of the tall churches of home, and most of all you knew you wanted a room for your painting. Anything would do, just something for you to cover with scrapbooks and canvases.

With these in mind, you hungrily poured over the pictures his family and your realtor sent along every night and made notes, checking for price and commute time to his office and your school. You circled and cut and pasted, until you had a fitting list to show him in the morning. You’d trudge to bed, hands sticky with paste and head light with images of your future home together.

Of course, he had his own list. The house needed to be no less than 15 minutes from his parent’s home, with a spacious yard for him to keep pristine, and a large office with space for his books and papers. There had to be a large dining room, (for university guests of course) a broad back porch for beers and chess in the evenings, and two bathrooms (he was absolutely anal about sharing).

Every morning, you’d sit next to him during coffee and talk quietly about your findings. You’d slide him the carefully crafted scrapbook with all of your notes and clippings tastefully collected on a page, with each option’s best qualities highlighted. He’d give a tired smile:

“What have you got for me today, honey?”

You’d begin your pitch with a deep breath. “Meet 887 Cherry Drive: 2 bedroom, 2 bath, - she’s got a HUGE back yard, big windows, glorious mahogany floors, only 20 minutes out from your office, 30 from your folks, and has delightful red shutters. And on your left, 2003 Elliot: 3 bedroom, 2 bath, with a connected garage and white porch. This one’s on a corner, so the yard is more like a side yard, but it’s got a peach tree and-”

“Oh not that neighborhood, and couldn’t you get my drive down a little more? You’re a magician with it all, babe, I know you can figure it out,” he interjected, checking his watch. “Ready?”

You closed the book. “I’ll do my best,” you sighed. “Remember we have to buy this house by August,” You said.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just the book is taking all my time, and I only have so much time - and I’m marrying an artist for a reason! Gotta get some bang for my buck,” he smiled.

You sighed a smile. Your drive to his office helped, though, as he explained the wondrous world of footnotes. He always got this charming determined furrow to his brows when he got frustrated.

—

He picked a 4 bedroom, 3 bathroom southern colonial a block away from his parents, deep in the Athens suburbs. It was stark white, with a rolling front yard and a stand alone garage - for your painting.

It wasn’t exactly what you pictured, but it had plenty of space, and two big hickory trees in front, with one in the back - the thought of the cool shade and quiet nights had you looking forward to it.

You tucked the folded flier back into your purse, and stood up with determination. Your skirt buffeted in the wind, like it was pushing you back. You walked on. He’ll be happy for me, we’ll have a friendly goodbye and we’ll go our separate ways.

You smiled into the wind as you turned onto the familiar brick path of St. Mike’s. Don’t cry.

—

He set the glass tumbler down with a dull clink and sat down in a huff. Class on Monday - I should really get them thinking about evidence-based decision making by the end of the month.

Damien enjoyed teaching, it added something to his life that he missed when he only spoke to the others at the seminary. All of their conversations came back to faith. Medicine he could give answers for, but faith was something different. He leaned on his fist as he watched the ice in his glass melt into muddy amber.

Faith was difficult. In the last few months, he could feel his assurance slip. He still believed wholeheartedly in his beliefs of course, but the world seemed to gray around him without… something. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but his thoughts had been clouded, days monotonous, and prayers rambling. It was like he was losing his touch.

It worried him. At least the students ask interesting questions.

He watched the leaves roll soundlessly outside the window and took a sip of his warming drink. It didn’t taste like anything.

He wondered if this was God’s latest test to his faith. A cruel one, at that. He usually trusted the path of his life - it was strange to question it. Maybe devotion is lonely. He’d lost some cosmic meaning; and when a priest loses his meaning, it often means he’s close to reaching that quiet, perfect devotion that carries him through the rest of his life. Maybe this is the feeling that makes so many men of the church so, so dull.

Then he thought of her.

Her easy conversation, the sun in her eyes, the warmth of her arm through his, her ever-changing laugh - yes, he thought. It has been a while, hasn’t it? He felt suddenly embarrassed, alone with his thoughts. He missed his friend - of course.

His thoughts suddenly fell to her wedding. He hadn’t realized he’d been blocking it out - he chalked it up to a busy schedule, the small voice in his head that went to medical school scolding him.

Only a few weeks ago, he had watched her walk down the aisle, glowing in a white dress.

—

He’d sat in the back corner, as far from the ceremony as he possibly could, strangely content to have as fuzzy a view of Chris, amicably chatting with Father Dyer, as possible. The ceremony was huge. It seemed like nearly 500 people crowded into the sanctuary, sweating politely through their Sunday best.  Days like these, he despised his high white collar.

He felt a little bad for his mother, seating them so far from the stage as possible, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to be avoiding looking at the groom as well.

He’d been to so, so many weddings over the years, always officiating, never attending simply as a guest. It was certainly a different occasion - somehow being in front of everyone with such a central role felt less visible than this did. He couldn’t complain, however, it was her wedding. He knew he had to be there - and his mother had absolutely insisted when she heard.

Her small family sat front row, the rest he could recognize as her guests were city natives. Her doctor, a few store owners, Carol (the only woman in the whole of the city she’d let cut her hair), some graying professors from your university days, and what looked like 20 kids and their parents - her Sunday school art students. The rest of the church he didn’t recognize, and the overture of southern accents in the chatter seemed unfamiliar.

The din quieted suddenly as the overbearing weight of the wedding march rang out through the sanctuary - you always liked how the organ shook the room.

People craned their necks to watch the groomsmen and bridesmaids walk slowly to the front. He involuntarily pressed a hand to his chest as his heart beat accelerated unexpectedly. His face grew hot and he tried to breathe deeply and quietly - was it audible above the organ?

He watched as Sharon stepped slowly through the doorway in front of him, she seemed relaxed. Seeing her suddenly brought him back to the moment, and he remembered there was no reason for him to be panicking. He set his arm along the back of the pew and parted a small smile as a young girl nervously sprinkled clumps of white petals across the red carpet. With a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, and silently thanked God he’d found a seat far from where she’d be able to see him.

Until she was suddenly before him, her eyes clear through the white mesh of your veil. She’d spotted him immediately - he was painfully aware of how wide his eyes were. She smiled.

Despite his hammering heartbeat and the blood rushing in his ears, he smiled back, and something relaxed. Everything felt right then, and it was as if you’d shared a long, satisfying conversation or told a quiet inside joke - and then she turned towards the front with a step.

He wasn’t sure if it had been milliseconds or minutes, but the moment passed. He turned to his mother, who watched her with a sad smile, tears in her eyes. She held his hand in hers, cool and frail, and said quietly in Greek, “Εκεί πηγαίνει, φαίνεται τόσο όμορφη (There she goes, she looks so beautiful.)”

He forced a fast smile and looked forward. “Ναι, το κάνει (Yes, she does.)”

The rest of the ceremony passed quickly and foggily, as if it was a dream.

He didn’t see her again until the reception, when people had thronged around her so tightly he wondered if she could breathe. Flashes of white would appear in the crowd, and he subsisted on the occasional glance of her face among it all, beaming. She looks tired, he thought. Thrilled, but… tired.

Her hair had rebelled from its perfect styling, and single soft hairs stuck out at various angles, framing her face in messy curls. Wouldn’t be so bad if you’d stop running your hand through it, he smiled. You always do that when you’re high-strung.

He allowed himself to appreciate her dress in glances - the layers of off-white organza complimented her frazzled elation well, artsy, as always, and the cut complimented the curve of her waist-

He shook his head with a start. Well, it does.

He buried himself in conversation with Father Dyer, grateful for the familiar face in the crowd. He needed the distraction - from whatever that deep, vague sense of dread he was feeling was, and from her and her tired eyes and bright smile – champagne and Father Dyer’s easy going company would suffice. He leaned against a wall near the back of the room by the door, standing next to his mother, who watched the sea of people through sleepy eyes.

“Oh, looks like she’s about to toss the bouquet,” Father Dyer said, turning to a particularly loud group surrounding you. He put a hand on his mother’s shoulder, crouching down to alert her of the spectacle. They watched as the bundle of flowers sailed over the sea of heads, hands snatching at petals as it fell. It landed in Sharon’s outstretched arms, and an excited chorus rose from the crowd as it dissipated quickly.

Seems fitting, he thought. The white of her dress was suddenly navigating through the crowd, passing hands on shoulders and smiling “excuse me, sorry, pardon me” fell from her lips. She looked up and pushed a wave of hair from her face as those familiar e/c eyes found his. She smiled, carefully picking her way through the maze of shoes.

He collected his thoughts quickly and straightened. She sighed a laugh and looked into his eyes as you came upon their small circle.

“Hey, I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” she said with an apologetic look.

“You look tired,” he said. She smiled, shrugging slightly, then turned away from him and leaned down to his mother’s outstretched arms, her dress collapsing around her in pillowy swells.

“Mama Karras!” She held her face in her hands, beaming up at her.

“Αγαπητέ μου, είστε όλοι ντυμένοι! Πάντα ήξερα ότι θα έκανες έναν όμορφο γάμο,” she said.

She glanced down to her hands, where she held three white roses, preserved from the bouquet. His mother’s face lit up.

“Δεν πρέπει να έχετε!” She gasped and gingerly clutched the roses to her heart, bringing her in with her other hand as she kissed her face. He smiled at them together - they were always so happy together. When his mother wasn’t asking you to eat more, or talking about him in broken English.  

“Couldn’t let you go home empty handed, Mama Karras,” she kissed her cheek and stood, holding her thin hand in her own. She leaned against the wall next to him, letting her head fall on his shoulder and hanging an arm from his coat sleeve.

“Can I tell you a secret,” She asked. He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow and a nod. He was grateful to finally have a moment to hear her, feel her touch again. Her face finally relaxed.

“I’m exhausted,” she said with a small smile, meeting his eyes and glancing over to Father Dyer.

“Lighten up, the wedding is meant to be for the bride after all.” He handed her a drink.

“Thanks.” She took a sip and sighed against him. He wished the whole party would evaporate then - just decide it was time to go home, leave you alone, let you sit down. He wondered if you’d sat down since before the ceremony.

The shadows across the room had long since grown long, and the light had changed from a bright yellow to a deep orange. The music simmered above the din, the low, sonorous tones of Doris Day relaxing the mood.

She tugged on his sleeve and glanced up at him.

“A dance, ‘father?’” She nodded towards the opening in the crowd, where guests had paired up, drifting in lazy circles. He looked to his mother, separating from you to lay a hand on her shoulder.

“How are you feeling, mama? Could we leave you for a moment?” She looked suddenly awake, lighting up as she stood quickly, straining against her cane.

“Μη χάνεις στιγμή να μου μιλάς, συνέχισε!” (Don't waste a minute talking to me, go on!) She pushed his hand away, walking haltingly to father Dyer and taking his arm. He went along easily, shooting him a knowing smile and turning to his mother happily.

He held out his arm.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he said. She smirked, taking his arm as they stepped slowly to the dance floor.

His face felt warm again, and his heart sped as they drew closer. She deflected relatives’ prying glances politely, leading them slowly. He wondered then if this was too much, if it wouldn’t bring Chris out swinging. Somehow he knew he wasn’t one to do that, but was slightly alarmed at how easily the thought of defending her from her new husband had slipped into his mind.

All at once, they had arrived. He left his thoughts as her arm suddenly left his, hand resting in his as she brought her other hand up to his shoulder, her arm resting bent against his. He brought an unsteady hand to her waist, squeezing her hand in his other. She looked up to his eyes as they began to step and spin slowly, talking quietly.

“So how do I look?”

“Beautiful, of course.” He gave a frank smile.

“Better than tired, I count it as a win,” she replied. She laid her head against his shoulder and yawned with a laugh. “Damn.”

“Cursing at a priest at your own wedding! Wait and see where that gets you,” He yawned. “Stop that.” He resisted the urge to rest his chin on her hair.

She closed her eyes.

“I like where it’s gotten me so far.” They stayed like that for a while, mumbling under the music and barely moving at all. She scrunched up her face and shook her head slightly, lifting her head away from him.

“Sorry dames, I’ve got to wake up,” She blinked repeatedly and rubbed her eyes. “Still have the rest of my wedding to be at, probably should be awake for it.” He fixed a strand of h/c hair behind her ear and took her hand. He led her arm over her head, turning her in a lazy spin.

“Wake up then,” He said. The song ended then, and the room faded back into view. They let go of each other’s hands, suddenly aware again, and clapped with the rest of the guests. She smiled at him among it all, and something struck him in her look. You’re happy.

He went to take your hand again when Chris rushed up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your hair as you laughed. All attention was on her again, and her eyes were on Chris. Not him.

He stepped into the crowd quietly, navigating back to his mother and Father Dyer.

They left before he could see you searching the crowd for him.

—

Your knock rang out loudly in the quiet hallway of the conservatory. Your heart rushed and your skin prickled at the silence. You always appreciated that about the church, that utter quiet, and better yet, breaking it with some angelic choir or powerful organ. Breaking this silence felt different though: nervous. You could hear shuffling from within.

The door unlatched and swung open in a rush, and Damien was all at once in front of you. He looked disheveled, but fully dressed - like he’d fallen asleep standing up.

“Hey Dames,” you said with a small smile. “Did I wake you up?” You stepped towards him, straightening his rumpled collar.

“No, no, just… lost in thought -thanks for that,” He looked distant for a moment as he pushed his hair back. “Come in,” he said with a tired smile.

You stepped into the familiar room, sparse as ever. The low bed was neatly made, a solitary cross hanging above the headboard. Sunlight streamed in through the open window, the noise of the street drifting in over the silence. The only clutter of the room was an abundance of books; a half of the small room had books piled on every surface, wedged in every crook and cranny. The table was similarly populated, displaying a few open books and strewn papers. He gathered them self-consciously, adding the stack to an already-precarious pile on the floor.

You smiled at his collection and turned to his closet. You scanned the top shelf.

“Where’d you move your vase?” You asked. You offered your small bundle of black-eyed susans with a crinkle.

He dropped a stack of papers on his bed and looked over with a raised eyebrow and thought for a moment.

“Ah.” He swiveled and produced the blue pitcher, pitching the musty water into the gutter outside the window before stepping through the bathroom door at the back of the room.

You unwrap the flowers, setting the paper on the table and dropping the bunched stems into the awaiting pitcher easily. He set the pitcher on the table with a light thud.

“Thanks, they really bring it all together,” he said with a light smile.

You always enjoyed his room- some may have thought it claustrophobic, but you preferred cozy. Countless afternoons reading and talking over coffee and tea - he always kept a box for you - sitting with your back to his dresser and his back to the wall, you’d drape your legs over his and watch the light grow orange with the evening. Conversation came in patches, quips about a passage, some thought question or story about your day, and you’d slip between talking and reading, lazily flipping through hours on end. You hadn’t been over in some time - you missed those afternoons.

You were struck, suddenly, by the knowledge that this might be the last time you spoke here. You fiddled with your hands, spinning your wedding band around your ring finger. His brow furrowed with concern.

“What’s on your mind?” He sat, you followed.

“I’m uh, I’m here to tell you I’m leaving, Dames, for Georgia in a week,” You said, flashing him a smile you hoped wasn’t too forced before looking down again. “Chris’ parents are there, and we’ve bought a house in Athens. It’s close to the University, and to the school. We’re really excited- I’m really excited for the fresh start, you know? And-and I’ll get to teach part-time, art, and I’m so excited to meet the kids, and,” you looked up to find him stony-faced, brown eyes swimming with hurt. “And, so I’m leaving the city soon. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner…”

You took his hand across the table and squeezed. He looked away. You sat in silence for what seemed like minutes, watching his eyes stare at the white wall. You didn’t pray often, but suddenly your mind rang with pleas. No, no, no, I’m sorry, I wish I’d told you sooner. You’re mad. You’ll never forgive me. I wish you’d look at me.

“Talk to me, Dames, please,” You said, swallowing hard. He inhaled and straightened. He turned to you and brought his other hand to yours.

“Is that what you want?” He said, face lined with pity. “Do you- want to leave the city?”

You were taken aback by his change in tone, now tone soft and coaxing. His therapy voice. His advice voice. His “savior” voice. Your stomach twisted with indignation.

“Yes,” you said in earnest, looking away. You couldn’t look at him when he gets like this, not now. “He’s my husband, Dames, what are you saying?” You drew your hand away.

“I’m not- You’re not hearing me - are you sure?” You stood.

“Yes, I’m sure! You’re acting like I’m some wayward woman you have to counsel - you’re my best friend, Dames, I thought you’d be happy for me-” He stood and looked you in the eye, his face serious.

“I’m not blind, y/n,” He raised his voice slightly, taut with frustration. “I have watched you give yourself up to him, piece by piece - first it was your apartment, then it was your job, and now it’s this- you’re leaving me, everything?”

“That’s what marriage is! That’s what love is!” You whipped around to look at him now as you raised your voice. “It’s devotion! Sacrifice! I chose this!” Why were you getting defensive? You weren’t thinking straight - you took a shaky breath and ran a hand through your hair. You hated this feeling.

“And don’t you dare act like you don’t know what that means. Like I haven’t watched you give yourself to the church - watched you sweat and cry and bleed for this? You think that hasn’t been hard for me? Watching you give everything away and leave nothing for yourself?” Nothing for me?

“Don’t make me say it, y/n.” He said, scarily still, brown eyes burning. “It isn’t the same - I’d never choose-”

“And I’d never make you! I’d never ask that!” You said. He stopped at that, looking like he had more to say but turning away. You were surprised as a hot tear dripped down your cheek. You held a hand to your mouth, swiping the tear away and turning. No, not in front of him. Not now.

Your head ached sharply as you held back tears. The pressure was overwhelming. You tried to take a breath, but it came shaky and louder than you wanted. Your face burned with embarrassment. He started to say your name behind you but you gathered yourself as much as you could and clutched your jacket together.

“Tell your mother I’ll miss her,” you managed. He was quiet. “Goodbye, Damien.”

You didn’t look back, opening the door to the quiet hall and walking as quickly as you could away. Away from him, away from his warm voice, his knowing looks, his broad hands, his rare smile, and everything else you loved about him. The sound of his door shutting at the end of the hall was all it took. Hot tears streamed silently down your face, your vision blurry and head pounding. The only sound was your shaking breaths and small, choking sobs.

You stepped onto the street with a wash of relief and set out the way you came, hurriedly smearing tears away as you walked.

You wondered for a moment if this would make leaving easier. Somehow you knew it wouldn’t.

#Damien Karras x reader #Damien Karras/You #friends to lovers #slow burn #my first fic #wedding #mutual pining #the exorcist #love this man #damien karras #what if instead of writing a fic like a normal person I wrote a novel #damien karras x reader

[cloudberry-sims]

A Decade Through Time: The Alderberg Legacy: Year 1602

A lot of things happened this year , some bad and some good. 

From the Beginning I Currently 

During the first quarter of 1602 , life drastically changed for young Ursula. Then again , she was used to changes... 

The now 20 year old woman would stand by the port , seeing her image reflect on the sea surface , realizing how different she was compared to the rest of the village girls. 

A orphan on the day she was born , never knowing who her father was , never having a true family name, she always had to go by Alderberg if sims asked. Raised by her loving uncle and stern aunt , later a meddling yet well-meaning grandmother. Surrounded by sims who loved her , yet feeling like a outsider looking in... Until she meet her.  

Over the 9 months of knowing Magdalene Calott , Ursula would often pay visit to their home in the village. It was there she meet Ralph Calott , Magdalene’s older brother. 

He was an apothecary and often very busy with creating remedies from the plant life. A quiet yet kind soul. 

Magdalene often invited Ursula to their dinning table with delicious food while she was there to visit and it’s how Ralph and she got to know each other. 

Before Ursula left for the day , Ralph had stopped to ask her something in private. 

He took her hands and confessed that over the months of her coming over and befriending Magdalene and himself, he had fallen in love with her. He asked for her hand in marriage and to be his wife. 

Ursula felt her heart sank to her stomach as she hastily told him that she needed to leave. She would never be able to love Ralph , no matter how sweet he was to her , for her heart  belonged to his charming sister. 

Gran Joan had noticed the budding friendship Ursula was forming between the Calott siblings and saw her granddaughter rushing back home that day and asked what was wrong. 

When she told her grandmother , she was scolded and was told the exact same thing as Margery was , that he would make a good husband for her and she needed to apologize and accept his proposal. Ursula said she couldn’t , that she didn’t love Ralph and that would be dooming her life of unhappiness and begged her grandmother not to make her. 

When her grandmother asked why not and whom she was in love with , Ursula couldn’t say , for she knew her grandmother would not accept her loving Magdalene , even if the watcher were accepting of everyone , simply for old outdated practices of a old faith's sake. By not telling her grandmother the truth , Ursula had to return and apologize to Ralph , lying about her having cold feet about marriage and accepted his proposal with a heavy heart... 

The process afterwards were swift and within the next month , Ursula and Ralph were wed. It surprised her how much her uncle and aunt had saved for her dowry , as it was bigger then Margery’s own dowry  , but she kept it for herself.   

Even if Ursula was a Calott now , she wished that she was the wife of Magdalene instead of Ralph , for she felt sorry for him to have a wife whom’s heart yearned for another. 

After the wedding night was over and done , Ursula sneaked into Magdalene's room and just embraced her. They both hope that perhaps in another lifetime , they would be each others wives and not just sister-in-laws ... 

At the Horthall Hall , the family of now 5 were sitting in the drawing room relaxing a week after Barbara giving birth to her third son: Arthur Horthall. 

For the first time during the 7 years of marriage , Abel and Barbara felt a calm in their life together. No yelling , no accusations of infidelity , no drunkenness... Just him , her , Jasper , Francis and little Arthur. Let’s hope it lasts...

At the Rookwood home, Isabel & Avis turned 2 years old. 

Margery’s girls looked identical from a far ,with the same hair and eye color , but they were both so very different. 

Isabel looked more like her mother , similar nose and lips. 

While Avis looked more like her father, with a similar nose and lip shape. Sometimes Margery wondered  how Wilmot , her own twin sister , would have looked like if she lived past infancy. If they would be identical or not... 

On the third quarter of 1602 , Joan Chelsey , the widow of Gerard Chelsey , mother of Nicholas , Rebecca and Susanna Chelsey and the grandmother and great-grandmother of the Alderberg and Rookwood children , past away shyly from her 63rd birthday of pneumonia.     

Joan did something not many sims in her life time managed: Living. She outlived her husband and her 3 children. Joan made it a goal to guide and help her grandchildren in life , even if that help was unwanted... 

Joan’s death made Griffyn confused. She had always been there , always there when he needed to talk to someone , always the one making big decisions and now it’s his turn. 

At the Wolfeden house ,  the Wolfeden sisters played merrily together as Hannah aged up into a lovely toddler. 

Catherine and Myles felt they were blessed by the watcher for such good and caring daughters 

On a snowy winters night in  Outland , Ursula Calott gave birth to a little bunching baby girl.

Ursula was in awe of her baby and was very indecisive on what to name her. Ralph told her to name her what ever she liked, as he was not good at names and only suggested plant based names used for medicine. 

She knew that many would suggest naming her baby after her mother or grandmother , but she felt none of those names fitted her daughter.  She didn’t look like a Susanna or a Joan. As she went back in memory lain , it clicked. 

Ursula: Hester , that will be your name. In memory of a dear old friend of mine , who past away too soon. 

Meanwhile , back in the main household tragedy struck , as Ambrose Alderberg past away from fever at 1.5 years old. Priscilla was crushed and sobbed into Griffyn’s shoulder as he tried to give her comfort...

He had lost many younger siblings; Henry , Joseph , Wilmot , Noah and Olive, he understood how devastating it was to lose someone so young... It didn’t make it easier though...

And it didn’t help the grieving process that Priscilla was showing signs of another pregnancy... 

At the Friswell household , Garrit celebrated his 30th birthday peacefully and quietly with his family.

He thanked his lucky stars and the watcher for taking him to Outland , for meeting his lovely Avigail and for the family that they were growing together. 

And hopefully in 3 months time , another little one would join his sons in the nursery! 

I missed taking a picture for Beatrice birthday 😓 She survived and age up to a child , we will see her child self in 1604 on instead.

Fun future fact as I just finished year 1609: Beatrice is the first no marriage roller! So far everyone has rolled over number 6 so they got married. 

#decades challenge #Morbid's decades challenge #A decaded through time #ultimate decades challenge #ts3 #the sims 3 #the sims 3 legacy #ts3 legacy #TW death #tw infant death #tw pregnancy #tw arranged marriage

[jurisffiction]

what do you use for journaling?

answering this from my phone which means it's probably gonna fuck up especially as i am now realising how much i want to say. as always

what i USE rn is an app called iA Writer, but technically i don't really use it/its features for journaling so much as just a .txt file organiser. the actual files are synced in a google drive folder, so i could also just open them in any notes app and start writing, but ia writer lets me see all my files at a glance (i make a new .txt file for each month, start each new entry with a big "NEW ENTRY MONDAY 9 JANUARY") and looks nice enough and recognises markdown syntax for basic formatting. i think it's a paid app but i really don't remember.

i used to use Day One (of deeply weird recent tumblr ad fame) when i was 17 or so, which helped me get started because it 1) had daily prompts and 2) had a header image input which made me feel better about just taking one photo each day and counting that as an "entry" without sitting down to write. that was also the big shift i needed to actually become a regular journaler (journalist? diarist.): i was always given cute notebooks as a kid, and even now you can open up tens of them that just have "IM SO TIIIIIIIRED" over the first page followed by reams of blanks. meanwhile i learnt to type 100wpm on msn messenger when i was 11 or whatever, but it somehow didn't click until glossy apps started dropping that i could just type journal entries and even though it wasn't the pen to paper aesthetic fantasy people usually think of, it does what i need it to (and better than paper). all journaling really is (for my purposes! there's a lot of reasons to journal, i guess) is a form of externalising thought processes and emotion to cut down on rumination, pause before impulsive actions, improve my memory and get to know myself better, so the closer i can make that activity frictionless the better — and i already spend all dang day typing anyway, so it's easy.

on that note, i also have a solo discord server i use to keep links and notes to myself, and i've got a channel in there for journaling, because ia writer on my phone WORKS but sometimes the sync overlaps and glitches, and it's just faster to dump quick thoughts into discord, especially if i'm literally just panicking at a party and want to write down something someone said to me so i can remember later.

there is an opposite mode of thinking, which is that journaling/externalising should be very distinct, and separate, and analogue, and physical, etc, to the extent that the frictive challenges of handwriting and paper and sitting at a desk rather than texting at a party etc is the point and helps with recall and the whole process of it all, but, god. i just can't do that at all. i go walking in nature each morning to ground myself in all that and i tumble out every thought and stressor and hypothetical i can wring dry from my mind into a .txt file for 5 minutes (that can turn into an hour) before i sleep each night so that i CAN sleep. but if i forget or im too busy i don't beat myself up about missing it. i stopped journaling for like 3 years then just started up again one day. i skip months sometimes. sometimes my entries are still just "TIRED". but it being a folder of text files helps me know i can start again whenever, and that if i ever want to go check something i can do it easily.

sorry this is insanely long; i've not journaled properly for weeks and it shows 😭

#asks #long post #? #new ask game. you send an ask to sam jurisffiction and turn 1 word into 8 words. perpetual motion machine

[weird-dere]

I posted 1,057 times in 2022

That's 669 more posts than 2021!

64 posts created (6%)

993 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@100billionknives

@headspace-hotel

@therealvalkyrie

@strialternatives

@virtualizated

I tagged 1,055 of my posts in 2022

#reblog - 974 posts

#memes - 407 posts

#favs ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 - 51 posts

#nice things ❤️ - 50 posts

#mootie bbies 💗 - 43 posts

#talkin - 41 posts

#dere’s main asks - 27 posts

#lmao - 23 posts

#food - 23 posts

#cute - 21 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#yeah no i don’t trust stock image sites or ong sites that require money. find that shit for free if you can or settle for something else.

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

The way I was just minding my business before my period literally just started murdering me. I nearly just passed out.

7 notes - Posted October 27, 2022

#4

Pls end my suffering. Eradicate all bugs.

7 notes - Posted August 10, 2022

#3

I brushed my teeth, washed my face, showered and shitted this afternoon. But aside from that today has been a day where I just rot in the bed.

8 notes - Posted September 10, 2022

#2

Gonna try go to sleep

9 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I need to share this with you!! I believe I may be in a real life friends to lovers scenario and the only thing I can think of is if this scenario could/would happen with Bakugo.

Scene: so say Bakugo has a friend for years and is adamant on making sure she knows that their friendship is solid and wants to make sure that their friendship grows. She, the friend, is an artist and he proposes she trade her original art or even doodles for plane tickets to go see him 👀 he pays for the plane tickets in exchange for her art and slowly but surely over the course of their visits. Boom! Love! Also in preparation of the visits he buys all her favorite body washes, expensive shampoos and lotions..

Lmao it’s all good sweetie! There’s no need to apologize ^_^. It happens sometimes lol. I’ll be reblogging this to my writing blog and I’ll tag her for u 💜💜💜.

That scenario is absolutely frickin adorable btw, and I love that for you in the irl world nonnie :3. I hope you’re enjoying yourself and staying safe too!

Bakugou can act indifferent to those around him, but if you really know him you know he always cares. After years of garnering and strengthening a friendship with you, he is always ready to show how dedicated he is to you openheartedly. He has the time of his life whenever he communicates with you and you never really leave his thoughts.

He loves seeing the process and progress of your works so much. Getting to witness the fruits of your beautiful mind come together piece by piece? It had to be a gift from some force out there. You trusted him enough to show him an extension of yourself that you have so carefully crafted over time? Given the way he was, it couldn’t have been anything less than a miracle in his eyes.

Getting closer and closer with you caused him to start learning more and more about the specific genre or type of art you like, so he could give you more detailed comments or feedback about your pieces. Something more insightful than ‘it looks really good’. When he starts making those comments he loves seeing how your eyes light up, how your smile stretches across your cheeks, how your voice gets ever so slightly softer when you speak next. He can’t help the endearing chuckle that leaves him as he watches you fight fidgeting.

As much as he loves getting the privilege of seeing you through a screen, hearing your voice, or seeing the cute way you chat online, he wants more. He wants to be able to experience all that wonderfulness you have to offer in person. Feel even stronger flutters in his chest at getting to hug you or hold your hand.

So he bargains to pay for your tickets in a fair exchange for some art. Of course if he’s going to get you anything for when you visit, it’ll your favorite toiletries. He doesn’t half ass anything, especially when it comes to you. He knows your tastes by now after talking with you for years. He’s gonna make sure you feel right at home with him. Make sure you feel special because you are <3.

He feels things between you are blossoming into something new. And he wants nothing more than to explore this softness he feels with you further. He could only hope that you might be feeling the same way 💖.

hope this was an okay response? lol idk how I feel abt it tbh and it’s late, but I wanted to do it uwu.

54 notes - Posted February 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Lol thought I’d post this just bc

[cerrein-sharma]

How to grow my e-commerce business

Design

This is the most important part of business success, make sure that your UX (user experience) and UI (user interface) should be clean, and try to limit excessive and irrelevant content on the home page.

Firstly, think about why you opened the shop, is your motive, is to educate the mass or get success in your business  I will give the perfect example for this context. 

If you went to any store or mall you feel the place is easily navigable and user-friendly, the caretaker is just watching the activity of customers to know which one is facing a problem after then they come to help. Just replicate the same to an online store where customers couldn’t get confused. they can easily navigate and choose the right product. Unwanted pop and slow speed hinder the process of navigation.

Desired results 

Think whenever you search apple products on amazon you will get the relevant search, not misleading results.  Your result should be precise, unwanted results disrupt the trust of customers and create the biasedness that they can’t handle the website correctly and how they can deliver the right product in time. Are they fraud person who operates this network ( customers can speculate anything)? In the future, they will never choose your platform for shopping purposes.  they also publicize negative feedback to their family and friends. “So the result should be precise”

Simple check out

If you build 4 page checkout session that destroys your business even if your result was crisp because people get bored filling the captcha again and again or conforming to the order again and again. It is just like you are helping your competitor to grow more with your lethargic checkout process. 

Try to limit the checkout page to “maximum 2 pages”.  the first page where people select the address, analyze the cost, choose the payment method and confirm the order. 

 The second page is for writing the banking credential or OTP writing. Make sure that do not add a feedback page during the final checkout periods. always pop up the feedback page after the payment.

Fast delivery

My personal experience helps me to write this point. I use multiple e-commerce and m-commerce for shopping the product I notice the unique things in myself that if I get the product delivered within the delivery period or shortest durations.

 I will go to that place even if I had to spend more dollars. I get recall value to choose that platform for shopping for fast delivery.

you can also implement this in your business and surprise your customer with very fast delivery ahead of your schedule.  set the example that we are committed businessmen or women and customer satisfaction is always our priority. 

E.g. if the estimated delivery time is 5 days just reduce the day & try to deliver in 3 days (  to do this just focus on improving the whole logistics chain ).

Remember my word ” if you can’t fulfill your promise it hurt more than losing thousands of dollars. 

Product pages should be clean

This page is the most important. And it depends on you how you optimize it. they ( customers ) will search every single thing from product reviews to an additional delivery charge. if anything gets hidden it breaks the trust let me explain if you add additional delivery cost on the payment page. it may shock the customer for an additional cost and feel just like you break the trust. Make sure that customize your product page such that even children can easily understand it.

Richness 

Try to upload clear videos with high-quality images, if you need to add animation or audio to make it user-friendly just do it. 

Information density

Do not write unnecessary content or show your writing skills. you are not a teacher but a seller your motivation is to sell the product.

e.g. if you’re selling acoustic guitars and wrote a full description about how to play different types of chords I’m in the place of the product specification. There is no point to write such types of things they just want to know the specification not how to play them remember do not waste the time of customers. 

Specific Marketing

Initial days we do not have enough money to spend like rainfall so select the right ads.

E.g. Choosing a Google keyword planner, Facebook ads, and hiring Instagram influencers for promoting the product. 

Conclusion

These small things are executed by big e-commerce platforms to get new and repetitive customers. And you should also apply it to your e-commerce, do not get depressed from your negative feedback. It just came to help you to make your trillion-dollar business empire

#ecommerce #Startup #Business #e commerce business

[naoko-world]

Day 3 of the Encantober and I'm again providing you with a short story! After killing Bruno I killed another member of the family, I hope you'll like it! I promised I'm not making it an habit.

@encantober-official don't forget me!

Encantober day 3: Tragedy

Casita was falling all around them. Félix was calling for Mirabel, warning her about the danger of Casita falling. Pepa was asking her to get out. Julieta and Agustín were trying too, but she didn’t listen. She was only busy saving the candle, saving this damned miracle they didn’t even need. They needed her though; Camilo didn’t know what he’d do if Mirabel was hurt. He was her best friend, the cousin he shared a room with until they became 5; he didn’t want her to die before they properly made up.

But he couldn’t say anything. What would he say? She wouldn’t listen to him more than she was doing with the grown-ups. She always listened to the grown-ups. Or actually, that’s what he thought he remembered. He wasn’t sure, since he’s 5 he couldn’t spend much time with her anymore.

Casita crumbled, trying to save Mirabel from being crushed, but it must have lost its conscience before it could because the parts stopped moving before reaching Mirabel, who received part of the roof on her body in a loud thud.

When everything stopped, Camilo hurried to her side, along with the rest of the famiy members. With a glance, he also saw a glimpse of green doing the same.

She was lying under Casita’s now destroyed parts, only her legs being currently visible. Camilo tried to be at her side fast, but was beaten to it by a man in a green ruana and black curly hair covered with dust. He got joined by Luisa, who helped him remove the parts of the house. Camilo came then to help too, not wanting Mirabel to stay under there. Maybe she can still be saved!

When nothing was staying on her, the man in the green ruana, that Camilo finally recognized as his lost Tío Bruno, knelt besides her, calling her “Mirabel! Mirabel!” with panic.

Visibly shocked, Julieta called him “Bruno?” Then, kneeling besides her too, holding an arepa she grabbed before approaching “Mirabel...”

He asked without looking at her “Can you save her?”

She tried to make her eat the arepa, crying “I’m trying...”

Camilo knelt near her too, his tears falling on Mirabel's forehead as did grief on him. The urge a transform to hide it came to him, while he remembered he was now unable to. He couldn't hide himself anymore. He was crying.

Besides him, Bruno sobbed "I'm sorry...I told her to save the miracle...I didn’t expect her to go to that kind of extent to do so.”

Julieta reassured him “That’s alright Bruno, it’s not your fault. She was persistent.”

Abuela added “If I didn’t put so much pressure on everyone...”

His mom argued “But if we reacted sooner to save the miracle she wouldn’t...”

Isabela replied “I should have be more honest, not letting myself be caged in an image of perfection.”

Luisa wept “Maybe I should have tried working less, then Mirabel would still be...”

Hearing so many members of his family regretting in front of Mirabel's body progressively became unbearable for Camilo, who ended up exploding with anger, claiming “It's no use to say now what we could have done to avoid Mirabel dying." Then, after facing silence, he kept going, way angrier "How was the miracle even that important anyway? It cost Mirabel’s life and couldn’t save her in the end. It brought us nothing but despair!”

First, nobody replied anything. What could they answer anyway? Even Camilo knew it was impossible to argue against that fact. Then, his family jumped on him to hug him all at once, trying to bring him some comfort. He found himself hard to breathe, while he was trying to process what was happening. Even Bruno had this arms around him, crying loudly with the rest of the family. He tried to escape their grip, but had to give up because of how strong the family was. Isabela finally talked “I understand what you mean, Prima...The miracle gave us so much wonders and we perverted it into a search of perfection.”

Then, Julieta added “Mirabel wouldn’t have liked us blaming ourselves for her, she was strong and determined and nobody could have prevent her to do otherwise.”

Thus before Abuela continued “Now we just have to find a way to prevent anyone to ever die again like she did, because we were locking in our image of perfection.”

Well...It wasn’t what he meant at all. But it’ll do! He finally let himself go into his family’s embrace, crying for his dear cousin.

#encanto #encantober #my writing #encanto ficlet #encanto fanfic #encanto dabble #camilo madrigal #mirabel madrigal #bruno madrigal #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal #abuela alma madrigal #tragedy

[alexandreawinstone]

What are FADS?

The definition of a Fad is a form of behavior that results in popularity over a short period of time, this can evolve from cultures, generations or social groups.  The word fad is evolved from the meaning of short-lived popularity but fades away, it is often seen as sudden, short-lived and quick spreading.  It includes diets, clothing, toys and makeup.  Some popular fads throughout the fashion years include corsets, which were invented in the 16th century and quickly become very popular in 2022, to adding feathers into your hairstyles in 2010 generated from the 70s era creating that bohemian vibe.

Macro

A macro trend refers to a large shift in the consumer behaviour that will affect a business long term, lasting 5-10 years, for example social media.  Social media has created a major shift within the industry as it has become increasingly popular as time goes along and has lasted for years. 

Micro

Micro trends tend to accelerate the process meaning they leave the trend cycle much quicker, because they rise to popularity quicker.  Social media apps like Tik Tok, Instagram and Snapchat are the main platform to micro trends as the turnover to posting an image or video to an online platform is much quicker then printing a report in a magazine or waiting to see a catwalk.  Celebrities have a major influence on micro trends as they have a large target audience that aspire to them, them being a major fashion influence to their audience.  Even TV shows and films are an influence on society, for example in season 2 of Euphoria there was an 89% increase for a black cut out dress worn by the character Maddy Perez. Micro trends are short lived as they are normally impractical to wear, for example micro miniskirts, since the 00s these have been in and out of fashion many years but only lasting a short period over the season.  This is because of their impracticality; the low waist and miniature length has meant that it has become difficult to wear in the winter and for day to day lifestyle and quickly fades onto the next trend.

How will this effect my work?

Understanding what a fad is effectively is useful for my upcoming work as I can identify which ones are fads, for my project it is important to understand which is the best to use as a trend generator.  Trend generators will use fads to help them discover the short-lived trend of that season.  I think that I will need to focus on some fad trends and designs for my A/W23 lookbook collection, as it can increase the sales within the industry. However, there are some cons to fads, as it’s a short-lived trend it normally only lasts for a season this can effect sales as it isn’t as stable compared to classic trends which are always succeeding. Fads are important withing the industry and not just throughout my project, mistaking a fad for a trend could result in a major loss of sales as it’s not what the consumer wants that season. 

[knowingkev]

I posted 342 times in 2022

That's 261 more posts than 2021!

9 posts created (3%)

333 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jacob-blogs

@defyinggod

@atlas-prime

@snailmailthings

@calvinandhobbes

I tagged 7 of my posts in 2022

#hannigram - 2 posts

#queer - 2 posts

#rant - 2 posts

#thiam - 1 post

#sex ed season 3 - 1 post

#mini rant - 1 post

#gay - 1 post

#tumblr gay - 1 post

#destiehellers - 1 post

#destiel - 1 post

Longest Tag: 15 characters

#sex ed season 3

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Everything I do is shit. But you know what I take naps in the day AND sometimes my friends call me hot so I’m okay

0 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

#4

Small Rant for the destiehellers

I’ve been seeing quite a few post saying how wrong destiel is and all that and i wanted to point out. Castiel is not animating a dead corps.

It’s canon that when Castiel was brought back he chose to be brought back as mirror image of Jimmy Novak. He’s not possessing him anymore. His human image just looks like Jimmy. This is all confirmed post season 8 I believe.

Now the whole r/ape argument could be debunked bc in canon nothing ever happened And most destiel FICS are AU which means Castiel is his own person. And when FICS want to include Jimmy he’s always his twin and his own person as well.

Now with beastiality! Castiel is not an animal but an Angel so I would probably just move this to Monster F*cker?? To make more sense.

I don’t know it bothered me how critical thinking was lost in this entire argument.

Anyways I respect all fandoms and try to mind my business. However, I was seeing a lot of hate for this ship recently so I just wanted to clarify. Feel free to leave your take and be respectful about it :0

3 notes - Posted September 15, 2022

#3

I think we needed an ep where will got f*cked by his therapist. Bc I’m convinced this is why the world hasn’t known peace. You can’t prove me wrong

8 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

#2

Hannibal the 2015 show is so funny. Bc I completely forgot that will had a wife bc he literally doesn’t care about her to chase a cannibal serial killer and play romance.

A true home wrecker and a slut! 💖💖

17 notes - Posted September 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I’ve been thinking a lot about theo and Liam these past few days. And you can’t tell me they weren’t supposed to be end game. ANS I know the creators said if they continued the show then they would end up together.

It’s just I was rewatching the scene where LIAM and HAYDEN were kissing and you see theo looking through the mirror.

You can’t tell me he felt like some type of way. I think he always had hard time processing his emotions and stuff but after LIAM brought him back from hell. I think that’s the moment he truly fell for LIAM. Like he probably thinks like oh why does this kid care so much about me. And I think theo was just like LIAM before character development. Anger issues. The difference is theo was leaning more towards being vengeful and self preservation. ANS LIAM is more reckless anger with the intent of being good.

And this dynamic has always been interesting. The same coin with different sides.

Anyways early on you can see the chemistry.

also the way theo looks at LIAM. I can’t. I think theo fell harder at first and Liam had a harder time accepting he was in love with theo. ✨✨

126 notes - Posted August 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[ecommercebd]