#i've spent too much time living as an adult to be comfortable coming home

[avonne-writes]

Hey! I've been loving all of your MOTA posts lately, especially your insights into Gale and his unhappy childhood. Do you think there are any specific ways that the trauma from that bleeds into his domestic life with Bucky? Any nerves that sometimes get struck on without Bucky realising that's what they are?

Thank you so much! Yes, my headcanon is that this happens sometimes. I came up with a few examples, but there could be more.

In a post-war canon AU:

Gale is shit at expressing his emotions because he learned to suppress them. Post-war, this causes a lot of problems. The silent treatment is not a constructive way of solving disagreements.

If he wants to talk to Bucky / it's dinner time or similar situation and Bucky doesn’t pay attention to him because there's a sports event on the radio, Gale flips out. Unreasonably so.

Interestingly, he doesn’t have a problem with drunk Bucky initiating sex with him but only if he does it in the bedroom or bathroom. Drunken advances in the kitchen, the hall or the living room make his stomach roil. It’s very specific, and given Gale’s communication issues, Bucky is thoroughly confused why he’s so roughly turned down sometimes while Gale is on board on other nights.

This isn’t a negative thing, but Gale is obsessed with soft beds and blankets. He isn’t very picky about furnishing their place but the bed has to be perfect. After so many nights spent on hard surfaces both as a child and as an adult, he craves this comfort. He’s all smiley and cuddly when he’s in that bed.

In my HS AU, when they move in together during college:

Gale jumps at every loud crashing sound, especially glass shattering. He’s withdrawn for hours if someone accidentally breaks a glass or a plate.

Once, Bucky comes home drunk from a party in the middle of the night, and it scares him. He’s instantly on high alert and won't sleep much after. Actually, he moves to the couch that night. When Bucky realizes what happened, he’s very apologetic, but it's not the last time he goes to a party without Gale. But from then on, he stays out all night, sleeping at friends' places. It really upsets Gale but he only tells Bucky this months later, when everything comes to a head. After that, Bucky doesn’t do this anymore.

Gale is triggered by the sight of empty booze bottles. Full ones he doesn’t mind, but empty ones make him anxious.

Gale doesn’t know how to decorate and make a space welcoming so he doesn’t understand why Bucky grouches about their apartment being too sparsely decorated in the first few months. Then, when he finally starts to get more into homemaking, he’s nervous to share any ideas, even small ones - e.g. he spends long minutes staring at souvenir magnets because he doesn’t know which one works best or he agonizes over choosing a frame for a photo.

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #gale cleven #john egan #hs au #anon #gale's childhood

[luviemax]

cedar- oneshot

a/n: ANGST!!!!!!! YAY!!!!!! song inspo here!!!!!!!

-> charles leclerc x female!reader, no physical descriptions of reader

warnings: none, probably.... just angst, yay!

word count: 803 words

masterlist

A four year long relationship isn't just something you 'forget'.

Especially not when you had told yourself that he was the love of your life. Your soulmate. Your other half.

However, all things have to come to an end eventually, right?

As of recent, the two of you hadn't been... talking.

Yes, maybe he called you on a daily basis when he was away, but it always felt like there wasn't enough to talk about. He felt distant, like his mind was somewhere else, but so was yours.

Half the time when he was away, you'd spent the time doubting the integrity of your relationship.

At times, it would take him hours to even respond to your texts. Hours which were spent contemplating if he even wanted you.

But you always brushed away those thoughts.

For these past few years, he was something of a lifeline to you.

Throughout everything, he always gave you his undivided support.

He lent you a hearing ear whenever you needed it.

He never failed to give you logical advice.

So why was it that you felt this blooming resentment towards your relationship which was one of the only consistent and good things in your life?

You figure that it'll pass.

You still greet him warmly as ever when he comes home after a long header.

He smiles, kisses you, embraces you, but you can tell something is off. It's apparent to you that something is weighing heavy in his mind.

It's almost as if this unmovable wedge has been placed front and centre in your 'perfect' relationship.

Of course, it's quite impossible to avoid the inevitable.

You know it's coming when he sits you down one afternoon.

"Mon coeur," he beckons you over, sitting on the sofa, "Can you come here? I've been meaning to talk to you." "Yeah?" You settle yourself next to him, making yourself comfortable. "I've been meaning to talk to you," He states, taking a moment to find the words. "I need some time." The both of you say at the same time, and momentarily, you look at each other with a hint of shock. "Okay," he breathes, "I have a double header after this so you can move your things out in the meantime." "Yeah." You agree. "Yeah." He sighs. A tense silence fills the room. "Thank you for everything." You tell him, placing your own hands on top of Charles', folded on his lap. "You too." The two of you embrace, possibly for the last time.

For the first time in three years, you're living alone again.

You decide to leave Monaco, and go to Nice instead, and although they aren't far apart, you just figure that Nice suits your lifestyle much better.

You find a new job doing something that you love.

You move into a beautiful beach house by the shores.

As a teenager, this is all that you could dream of, a life of self sufficiency, independence and solidarity, but as an adult, so much seems missing.

Or more appropriately, someone is missing.

Honestly, in these past few months of being single, you've chosen not to think about him.

He was all that was good in the world. He did you no wrong. He treated you right, and throughout those four years, he was a gentleman, and yet, you chose to leave him.

Yeah, maybe at the end it was mutual, but the thoughts had been simmering for a while.

In a way, you feel guilty, as if you've wronged him.

You miss his dimpled smiles.

His random piano sessions when he couldn't sleep at night.

His hugs.

His voice.

Well, whatever it is.

You just missed him.

But then again, the two of you were still young adults, who were maturing and finding their paths in life, and during those times, it's perfectly acceptable to want to do that in solidarity.

But he felt like a piece of you.

Nevertheless, you decide not to dwell on it. It would only make you feel worse.

It takes you by shock when he calls you, but you still pick up in an instant.

"Hello?" You answer tentatively, in case he had misdialed you, or something of the sort. "Hi." He replies, slightly breathless. "Charles? Are you ok?" You ask, slightly concerned. "Yeah," he replies, "I'm sorry. I just really wanted to hear your voice. "Charles." You sigh. "Yes?" "You know you can talk to me anytime, right?" You ask, a wistful smile on your face. "Yeah." He sighs. "You know that you're still my friend, right?" You question. "Yeah," He replies- was he choking up? "I have to go now. I'm sorry." And with that, he hung up, quite abruptly.

With that, you go home, and stare at the ceiling blankly for hours before being able to fall asleep.

#charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst #f1 x reader #f1 x you

[harrisongslimited]

George Chapter of the Day

I Saw Her Standing There #12

Chapter 12

Trigger Warnings: adult situations, swearing, drinking, smoking, sexual tension, slow-burn romance, george and joie romance, friendship.

**18+ only**

Chapter 12

When Joie awoke in the coach house, she was warm and comfortable. The sun was actually shining for a change and lit up the bright yellow walls and sunflower wallpaper. She missed daily sunshine. A lot. Sitting up in bed, she noticed a piece of paper pushed underneath the door and went to see what it was.

"Morning. I'm off to town. Make yourself at home for today. I'll talk to you when I get back. Probably sometime in the afternoon. George xx"

Joie folded the note, tucked it in her purse and headed for the main house. She was going to enjoy this day, even if she remained in George's robe.

"Joie?"

She heard the voice through the intercom from the front gate. "It's Cyn. Open up."

Joie met her at the front door. It was early afternoon and Joie had spent the rest of her morning talking to Freda and dozing on the living room sofa. She felt guilty not doing anything, especially when Freda told her how busy it was, but she felt she deserved this little vacation.

"Cyn!" Joie exclaimed when Cyn came through the gaden gate. "So happy to see you! What's going on?"

Cyn was loaded down with shopping bags and lunch. "Bringing you some clothes...and lunch. George told me you were here and all you had was a robe."

Cyn noticed it was George's robe and gave Joie "the look".

"Come on in...." Joie invited, "but don't get the wrong idea. I slept in the coach house."

Cyn walked in and dropped the bags. "Come on Joie...George is daft over you. You trying to stay one step out of his grasp?"

"No. Not at all...I mean not consciously."

Cyn frowned. "What does that mean?"

Joie shook her head and helped Cyn into the house, setting the bags and lunch on the kitchen table. "Don't know really...but what if I'm giving off the wrong signals?"

"Well, what signals do you want to give off?"

Joie smiled but turned shy. "I like him very much. I just don't have any experience...you know? I've had to fight boys off for the most part."

Cyn nodded in understanding. "John was the fist guy I ever dated. I was just so shy. He would tease me about everything and one thing led to another and I got pregnant. We married after that. So don't listen to me, really!"

They laughed together as Joie produced 2 glasses and Cyn filled them with a lovely smooth white wine.

"Be yourself, be open with George about your feelings. I know one thing--George would never hurt you."

Joie, filled with emotion, hugged Cyn. "Thank you, Cyn. You're a wonderful friend."

Cyn smiled. "Well let's have our wine and look through these clothes. We'll have you ready for George by the time he gets home."

Joie wondered what that meant, but just hugged Cyn again instead. "Thank you," she said simply. "Thank you for all you have done for me."

Cyn waved her hand. "Not to worry. My pleasure."

Joie looked in the bags. There were still tags on the clothes. Tags with prices she couldn't afford and Cynthia saw the look on her face.

"Don't worry about that for now. I know what you are thinking. But I had these in my closet. Never wore them. At least they will get some use. I bought them when I was skinnier and now I can't fit into them. Can't take them back either. So you are doing me a favor. I told John I will have more room in my closet!"

"Oh, I couldn't Cyn...." Joie told her, shaking her head.

"Please let me do this for you. I know how good you were to John on tour. He told me there were a couple of nights he'd had too much to drink and you really took care of him. I appreciate that....and I appreciate that I can trust you."

"You can, you know..." A flash of her hypocrisy exploded behind her eyes but Joie did her best to focus just on Cyn and what she needed.

Cynthia nodded and reached out to hold Joie's hand for a moment. "There are very few women I can trust at this point....and you are one of them."

Joie smiled. "Thanks, Cyn..."

"Now c'mon. Let's pick out some clothes."

.........

When George arrived back home, Joie was in the kitchen cooking. She thought she would give him a good home cooked meal and found enough food in the pantry to make a decent dinner. Chicken, rice and carrots. She had no idea if he liked chicken, rice and carrots, but that's what she made.

"Hello?" George called out. He had her suitcase in one hand and a box in the other.

"How....what....?'

"How....what?" George teased her. "I got you some things from Freda's with her help. And the box...well...I just thought this house needed something and I figured out what that was."

George handed her the box. Something inside moved. Joie jumped, then looked inside. There were 2 kittens...one white, one black.

"I didn't know what color to get....," he grinned.

"Oh my...."Joie exclaimed. She took the kittens out and held them to her. Joie looked at George, almost getting teary. "Oh my...." She said again, sweetly looking at him and leaning to kiss him.

It was quiet between them now as the kittens purred in her arms. Joie believed that right at that moment, right then, she'd never been happier in her life. She wanted to hold the moment in time, remembering the sounds, the smells, the feelings.

"You want to name them?" George finally asked her.

"I don't know..." Joie answered. "What do you think?"

"Let's just see what their personalities are like. Then we can decide."

He walked closer to her and she handed him the white kitten.

"One big happy family...." He joked. Those sensual dark eyes focused on her as she cuddled the kitten.

"One big happy family...." She answered.

..........

"So where were you?" John asked Cynthia when she returned home.

"At George's. Joie is there and needed some clothes."

"Needed clothes?" John laughed. "What the hell is wrong with George? What would she need clothes for?"

"He loves her, John..." Cyn told him seriously. "I think the little boy who followed us around has fallen in love."

"With Joie?"

"Yes with Joie" Cyn told him.

"Does she love him?"

Cynthia smiled. "She does. She just doesn't know it yet."

John shook his head. Walking away from her he said, "Birds....American or British. All the same."

..........

"What time are you leaving tomorrow?" Joie asked George as they cleaned dishes after dinner.

"Come here," George extended his hand. "I want to talk to you."

She took his hand as he led her to the living room where the kittens were asleep on a blanket, their little tummies full. George lit a fire, poured them a glass of wine, and sat next to her on the sofa.

"The car is picking me up at 6am," he began.

Joie shook her head. "6?"

George nodded. "And I'll be gone for 3 weeks."

She missed him already. The steadiness of him. The strength. The way he made her feel...like the only woman in the world he wanted next to him.

"What about the kittens?" Joie asked. "I couldn't take them to Freda's. What are we gonna do?"

"Well, I'd like you to stay here. You can take my car into London for now. We'll figure out what to do with your car when I get back. It's at Mal's now. He took it to be....cleaned up."

"Stay here?"

"Yes."

"George...."

"What?"

"I shouldn't."

"Why?" he asked, his eyebrow hiked up to the ceiling. "Because it doesn't look right?"

Joie shrugged slightly. "Well, it sort of ... doesn't."

George sighed. "Joie, I don't care how things 'look'. We know what we are doing and what happens is private. Let people think what they will. You can't stop them. I've learned that the hard way. If you don't want to stay, don't do it on your own terms. Not because of what people will think."

"I know you're right...."

"And if you are worried about your dad, I'll talk to him. I'll tell him you are staying in the coach house and I'm ... well, I'll be gone," he said. "And you can go into the office because Brian will be on the road with us.If you'd rather just stay here, that's fine. We will work the rest out when I get back."

"I quit NEMS, remember?" she asked, leaning closer to him. "Do you always know what to say and do?"

"Yes," he said in a joking way. "You're fine...work in the office if you'd like or stay here and help me. Staying here would help you get some proper time to work on your report. Don't forget that."

"Ok," she answered. "And don't worry...I'll tell my dad I'm here. Don't worry about that. But I'll have to call him long distance. Can I pay you for using the phone?"

"Joie," George began, shaking his head. "I don't care about that."

"But I do. I don't want to take advantage."

"You won't. I'm not worried about that...." he answered again, reinforcing his lack of caring about a phone call. "Let's say we'll figure it out later, ok?"

"Ok," Joie replied as her emotions began to overwhelm her. God, he was handsome. Those dark eyes pulled her in so effortlessly, like it was a walk in the park. She felt warmed by the fire. By the wine. By George. She wanted to crawl next to him and feel his arms around her. She wanted to sleep on his shoulder. When he got up to stoke the fire, she smelled the soapy clean of him.

Joie watched him for a moment. What was happening to her? Why was she feeling these things when she usually just didn't pay attention to such things?

The wine. She told herself. It was the wine talking. She would do no such thing but it did feel overwhelmingly incredible to imagine telling George the truth. Everything felt good.

They talked and shared another bottle of wine. Joie told him several times that he should get some sleep before the car came to get him at 6, but then they would start talking about something else and the time didn't seem to matter.

"Come with me," he said suddenly, standing and extending his hand. "Come with me."

She didn't know what he meant, but she didn't care. She took his hand. They both stood and George began lead her to his bedroom. Joie was nervous. She didn't know what to think.

"George...." she said, hesitantly.

"Keep me company while I pack a bag," he said quickly and Joie knew that George recognized her sudden nervousness.

"Ok..." she answered with a gentle smile.

He suddenly stopped and turned to her. "Nothing is going to happen unless you want it to, Joie. You have my word."

Joie looked at him in the light from the living room fireplace. His hand was wrapped around hers and her heart felt suddenly so light. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Joie wanted to take him in her arms and kiss him, and feel his body pressed to hers.

She closed her eyes for a moment. "I know. I know that because of who you are."

He smiled and pulled her close to him. He kissed her lightly on the lips and they walked into his bedroom.

George proceeded to pack a bag as Joie laid down on his bed. She struggled to stay awake...to keep him company....but soon, her eyes closed. She wanted to get up so he could at least lay down to get some sleep, but she just couldn't open her eyes. At one point, she felt him lay down beside her but she couldn't move to get up. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Had she been awake, she would have felt him kiss her forehead again and whisper, "Sweet dreams, love."

..........

She awoke with a start and jumped up from the bed. The sun was up. She called out, "George?" but there was no answer. He was gone. Gone for 3 weeks.

Joie missed him already.

The strength of her feelings surprised her. Was this love? She had no idea. But she knew by the shiver that shot up her spine when George was close to her, something was going on. When he kissed her forehead, she felt butterflies in her stomach. This was all new to her. Charlie was the only person she could even relate this to, and he was a nightmare in comparison. He got very angry when she turned him down to have sex. He'd storm off and Joie found she really didn't care. Her first time was going to be with someone she loved, not some sex obsessed teenager. That she knew for sure.

Joie changed into her clothes and spent the day reorganizing the kitchen and running the kittens to the litter box. They were good company especially when they ran under her legs as she was trying to work. The phone rang about 6pm and Joie answered it.

"Hello?"

"Ah, you are still there," George said lightly. "I was afraid you had packed up and left for the States."

"Nah," Joie told him with a laugh. "The kittens need me."

"How are they?"

"Good. I'll get them to the vet before you get back. Is there anything you need me to do here?" Joie asked him.

"I'm having some things delivered day after tomorrow. If you could be there to let them in..."

"Sure. What's coming?"

"Some music equipment."

"Ok," Joie told him. "How was your flight?"

"It was fine. Tired though. Didn't sleep much last night."

"I know..." Joie answered sheepishly. "You must be exhausted."

"I'll be fine," he laughed. "And Joie, if you need me, call."

"I will. You too," she promised him.

And he hung up.

#the beatles #beatles #george harrison #george chapter of the day #cynthia lennon #beatlemania #writers on tumblr #writers #beatles fanfiction #beatle wives #fanfiction

[bowtiepastabitch]

It's struck me today how wild the timescale of this fandom is

(cw for mentions of religious and queer trauma, covid)

Unlike fandoms that get new content (books, tv seasons, etc) on a regular basis, the Good Omens fandom has been essentially self-supporting for decades. I arrived incredibly late to the party, but I've felt more accepted here than anywhere in my life. But looking back at my life really puts in perspective how much fucking time has passed.

The novel was published in 1990. I was not even alive then.

The first season of the show came out in 2019. In 2019 I was deeply closeted at home, somewhat out at school, and had never met a trans person or a queer adult. My access to media was strictly controlled and I didn't really have internet access. I was still fairly religious, but I was experiencing severe untreated mental health issues that I had been raised to believe were my fault for lack of faith.

The lockdown episode of course took place in 2020. I was forced out of the closet by my mother, who had read my texts and, finding nothing, my emails. This was days before I found out I would not be seeing my friends again or even leaving the house for months. I spent several weeks worth of free time in the early days of Covid writing a massive research paper on biblical christianity and queerness, desperate to convince my parents that the bible never said I couldn't be a lesbian. Their rejection of this was the beginning of the end for my faith.

The second season was announced in 2021. I graduated high school and took a gap year for a voluntary residential hospitalization to get my mental health in a safe place so I could go to college. I finally began properly deconstructing my faith but struggled a lot to figure out where that put me. I briefly considered just converting to a different branch of Christianity that was less controlling. I got engaged to my highschool sweetheart.

In 2022 I started college and started to explore gender, made new friends, started catching up on all the queer media I'd missed when I lived with my parents. Officially decided I never wanted to step foot in a church again and then shoved the rest of my religious trauma deep down where I wouldn't have to think about it.

The second season was released the summer of 2023, last year. I waited until I was alone at the house and binged the first season on my mom's prime account. She was around a bit while I watched the second but mercifully didn't have anything too rude to say. I was shockingly, almost neurotypically normal about the show at first.

September of 2023 I broke up with my fiance and started spending more time on tumblr again. Good Omens quickly became my comfort show. In October I started writing creatively again for the first time in nearly five years (long story, loads of trauma), fanfiction obviously. Brainrot set in very quickly.

When season 3 comes out, I will be probably be nearly finished with undergrad. If it takes a long time I might even be totally finished. That's kind of terrifying, but also amazing. 2019 me could have never even imagined such a thing.

Time has always been a strange, gooey thing for me, but looking at how much has changed in a time period that doesn't seem that long numerically is particularly trippy. And that makes me weirdly sentimental. It's crazy to me to be accepted in the kind of space that younger me would have dreamed of, and I look forward to spending the next few years getting excited over this with y'all.

#don't mind me just thinking sentimental thoughts #I love this fandom so much y'all don't even know #good omens #good omens fandom #neil gaiman #cw religious trauma #cw covid #religious trauma

[motherhenna]

am I the only one who's starting to feel like self care culture and therapist speak has lowkey done some serious damage to a lot of mentally ill young people over the last 8 or so years? It's literally the perfect vehicle for justifying insanely unhealthy coping mechanisms and addictions but I haven't heard anybody talking about it on here. Instead, I keep seeing posts that are like "be gentle with yourself: go at whatever pace is comfortable for you" and "it's okay to say no to things you don't want to do" but like...what if that thing you don't want to do is taking a shower or leaving the house or cooking your own meal at home? What if moving at a pace that is "comfortable" for you means you still haven't stopped smoking for the last decade because nicotine withdrawal and anxiety are not "comfortable"? And hey--at least you're only smoking ONE pack a day instead of two now, so that's almost as good as quitting entirely!

I'm saying all this as someone who is only just now coming out the other side and realizing how much of my late teens and twenties I've wasted because of my lack of accountability and aversion to the hard work that's necessary for recovery from addiction, eating disorders, and depression...and the whole time, I thought I was just practicing self care. But a lot of us should probably take a closer look at our behavior and ask ourselves, "is this really self care? Or is this just complacency, fear of failure, and denial?"

There's a word in addiction treatment that's used to describe family members, friends, or partners who give into their deeply disordered loved one's every demand--even when they know it's hurting them: enablers. I've seen a documentary of a 700 lb immobile man who was still managing to pile on weight because his wife went out every day and brought him every kind of junk food he asked for, all while claiming to love him more than anything else. But genuine, healthy love isn't watching your partner literally waste away before your eyes because you'd rather make him happy in the short-term: it's being fucking honest, and helping them get the assistance they need to get better even if you have to drag them kicking and screaming into rehab. And I'm of the belief that a lot of you out there end up confusing self-love / self-acceptance with self-enabling. One is easy while the other requires you to wake up and do the work every single day, even when it's ugly and messy and painful.

And listen--if your therapist has given you the full go-ahead to take the whole "gentle" route, or it's clearly working out really well for you, then by all means: keep at it. But more often than not, I think we need to stop wrapping ourselves in cotton. The way we treat ourselves should be how we'd ideally parent a child: obviously the overly harsh, critical, strict route rife with threats and punishment is a recipe for disaster, but the other extreme can be extremely damaging too. An overly compliant, indulgent parent who gives into their kid's every whim is likely going to produce selfish, entitled brats who have no concept that their actions have consequences. Neither approach is going to do their children many favors in the long run.

While I'm not fond of the boomer bootstrapping rhetoric, as I think a lot of it comes from an extremely skewed perspective of reality and the expectation that "if I can do it, everybody else should be able to do it just as easily", I also can no longer stand by the victimhood mentality so many fellow young millennials / gen z'ers seem to be living by. Because I spent the last ten years wallowing in it and all it gave me was lowered standards, a million excuses, self pity, and obesity. And it fucking sucks to confront the fact that you are ultimately the one who's responsible for your own behavior as an adult: it means you can't just blame it on society or your parents or your illness or whatever 'ism or 'phobia applies. Are all those things contributing factors that should be taken into account? Absolutely. Should you compare your progress to more privileged people's and feel shame that it's taking longer? No. But that doesn't mean you have no control of your life and choices--that you're powerless to do anything but wait for someone else to save you. Unless you're literally being held hostage at gunpoint, there are always things you can do to `improve your life and yourself. So next time you want to give up on a dream of yours, or justify not changing out of your pajamas for a fortnight in the name of self care, maybe ask yourself what an enabler would do vs. what a true friend would do

#more rambling #this has just been on my mind a lot lately #as I feel like I've finally woken up from a decade's long nightmare #and maybe I could help somebody else in the same place wake up too #you're so much more resilient than you think you are: you don't need to be handled with child gloves to thrive #not to be catholic but the prayer for serenity is super relevant here #'grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change #the courage to change the things I can #and the wisdom to know the difference.' #personal

[winterandwords]

🌃 Bridge From Ashes Update: 11 January 2023 (with now traditional bonus doggo content)

Genre: Cyberpunk, neon-noir Audience: Adult Working title: Project Frequency Tags: #bridge from ashes and #project frequency More: WIP summary and tag list

📝 Status

Read through of latest draft complete Guess who actually managed not to look at her book AT ALL for a whole month between drafts for the first time ever? I really struggle with letting projects sit, so that's a huge deal for me. I've spent the last week reading through the most recent draft and it felt so different from times when I've gone back to a WIP after only a week or two. Not quite a reader's eye view, but almost.

✅ Next step

Line editing This is probably my favourite part of the writing process because I adore obsessing over details. I'm really looking forward to getting stuck into it this week.

💜 Feels

I got the fucking 'rona and it kicked the shit out of me. It's still kicking the shit out of me. I don't talk about health stuff much on here and I'm not going to start now, but this has impacted my writing so it's getting a mention. Covid heavily exacerbated a lot of chronic illness/disability crap, my baseline for absolutely everything has been obliterated, and the most irritating part is the cognitive impairment. I can handle my body being more useless than usual, but I'm kind of attached to being able to do things with my brain.

I've adapted to living with some cognitive impairment all the time anyway because of ongoing neurological shit, but covid has taken it to new levels and it's frustrating as hell. It took me a week to read a 71k draft of BFA. I wasn't casually looking at it here and there. This was big effort. I haven't been able to write anything new on either of my other WIPs and I've had to abandon the extremely flexible low-pressure schedule I'd created for the next few months of writing.

The only thing making this less annoying right now is that line editing is a slow close-up activity anyway, so even though I most likely won't be able to work on it the way I usually would, at least I shouldn't feel as held back as I might if I was doing something that usually moves faster.

✍ Snippet

Inside, he says, “This is your home?” and nudges an empty bottle with his foot into a pile of more empty bottles. “This is where I sleep.” I lock the door behind us and drop my coat on the couch. Suddenly I have no idea where to put myself and I’m acutely aware of the history of that coat. What it meant to him, what it meant to me then and what it means to me now. “Turn on the lights,” he says. “I’d rather not.” “I wasn’t asking.” In some ways, we’re still the same people we were the last time we saw each other. Our past together, as brief as it was, still lives in the way we speak to each other and there’s a strange comfort in how that hasn’t changed, even if so much else has. I tell the lights to come on. Cold eyes sweep across the room. “Apparently this is where you drink.” “I drink in other places too. This is the only place I sleep.”

👀 Bonus bits

Shadow being an absolute brat. I told her to stay in her nest (cleaning was going on and she'd been 'helping') and you can see the "Well, technically..." going on here, complete with too-cute-to-be-pissed-off-at face.

💜 Tag list

Thanks for your support and encouragement! Comment or message me to be added or removed.

@drabbleitout @ezestreet @i-can-even-burn-salad @kaiusvnoir @manathen @thegreatobsesso

#bridge from ashes #project frequency #my writing #wip update #wip excerpt #writers of tumblr #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original writers #am writing #tumblr writers #cyberpunk #science fiction writers #original fiction #writers

[ladyaj-13]

I want to hear about Ten Steps to Wooing Liam Payne and Untitled Document 2 for the WIP titles!

Ta muchly for the ask! Sorry I've sat on it for several days :D

Ten Steps to Wooing Liam Payne (an actual proper title and everything!) is a canon, band-era Ziam fic with - whoda thunk it - Zayn trying to woo Liam with "help" from Louis, so plenty of Zouis friendship in there too. It's probably about half done, will be about 12k, but I haven't even looked at it since July... I should pick it up again. A snippet, from step three of the plan, which is buying Liam a gift - Louis has called a clandestine progress meeting:

He counts the doors, and when he opens the right one he’s yanked into a broom closet, one foot catching on a bucket. The only reason he doesn’t go arse over tit is that there’s not really room to fall, not with the industrial floor polisher and shelves of paint cans and Louis.

“Subtle,” Louis says dryly. “I’m revoking your double 0 status.”

“Your fault,” he mutters.

“So, progress! What delights does Liam have to look forward to?”

He thinks of the pages of jewellery; the bracelet he finally gave in to and clicked ‘buy’. He’ll tuck it in a drawer back home, where it can wait for the right time. If the right time ever comes. He thinks of the jacket wending its way to Detroit, ready for when he catches up to it - the one he’ll have to wear himself. 

“I bought him a Snickers.”

He should have had his phone ready, because Louis’ face is priceless. 

“A Snickers.”

“He liked it!” he argues. Liam had. He’d looked at him all soft when he found it in the morning, and tucked it away to be eaten at a more chocolate-appropriate time, because Liam is all about the delayed gratification. It meant Zayn got another soft look three hours later when he finally unwrapped it and insisted on sharing, the chocolate melting sticky and sweet on their fingers. Best eighty cents he ever spent.

Lous crosses his arms and taps his foot. Because of their proximity, it means he’s basically drumming his toes on top of Zayn’s.

“He doesn't need anything,” Zayn says quietly. “Anything he needs, he’s already got.”

Untitled document two is much less developed; more an idea than a draft. It's an AU, and Liam - who has been dumped, and who's best friend has just moved away, so he's becoming one with his sofa in a dreary routine of work and telly - is taught how to have fun and live life again thanks to Niall (or possibly Zayn, haven't decided yet) advertising for a companion for him. Not like a companion wink wink but someone who will push him out of his comfort zone and make him do things. That person, naturally, is Louis. And it might all get a bit wink wink at the end there but probably more in a cute fluffy way.

Liam thinks, secretly, everyone’s life must be as boring as his.

No one really lives a non-stop adventure, and if they did, wouldn’t they get tired? Wouldn’t it all start to feel samey, day after day, wouldn’t they get the same rush of fear and adrenaline over a telly marathon that he does being asked to step outside of his own comfort zone?

So what if he sometimes looks up and wonders if this is all there is. So what if every now and then his mother traps him into a conversation about wasting his life away. He’s got a life. He’s got his own flat, and a steady job, and it’s not his fault his girlfriend dumped him a little over four months ago and he hasn’t felt ready to get back out there. You don’t just get over something like that. He’d been looking at rings.

This is what being an adult is. It’s routine and responsibilities and sometimes it’s disappointing and a lot of the time it’s boring. That’s just how it is.

#thanks so much for the ask! #aj answers asks #wip game

[francesderwent]

Babes if you're open to it - probably the adult thing I struggle with the most is budgeting so any advice would be helpful 💖💖💖

this is probably going to be my least helpful answer, because my success in money matters has very little to do with budgeting and much more to do with being viscerally terrified, on a cellular level, to spend money. I would not recommend it as a strategy, because it is disordered. however, the terror was premised on having such a small income that I was technically far enough below the poverty line to qualify for government assistance soooooo maybe it was warranted.

here is all I know:

what money do you absolutely need for rent/car payment/loan payment? set that money mentally aside. you do not have it. you do not see it. you are looking away.

the money I need for gas (now that I have a car) or public transit (when I was using the bus/metro) I neither budget nor set aside ahead of time, because I've always been bad at predicting how much I'll actually need and I'm also bad at curbing my excursions. I just pay for what I need when I need it, and feel vaguely guilty when I use up a tank of gas or a metro card more quickly than usual. this is not recommended, it is just what I do.

set a limit for Expensive Treats like buying a fancy coffee drink or getting lunch out which is slightly less than you would naturally tend towards, so that it's doable. when I lived in the city I went by the rule of only buying lunch out once a week, and the rest of the week I either schlepped home for lunch or I brought a lunchbox. (I don't remember how much coffee I bought, because it was in a haze of caffeine addiction.) if you tell yourself "NEVER go out" then I think you end up caving and going out anyway more often than if you set yourself a goal.

if you can, go nuts on Inexpensive Treats For Home. it's way more budget friendly to have a dozen different boxes of fancy tea and really nice ground coffee at home than it is to be buying fancy drinks out all the time. buy a big bag of candy! they're pretty cheap, and they work for me as a substitute for love basically anything! don't not buy snacks for home when you'll just end up buying them when you're out and about! make your home space as homey and full of comfort as you can, because it is always more expensive to find your comforts in the public square

speaking of which. I don't know if you drink, but when possible, try not to drink alcohol out. I am a life-long chooser of food over drink just because I happen to like food better, but also. if you're meeting friends at a bar after class, and you order an appetizer instead of a drink, it'll probably be cheaper, and meanwhile everyone around you will get hungry and end up ordering drink and food. alcohol out is like a once-a-month treat, if that. it is so expensive!!! having friends over and buying a whole bottle of something is more manageable

I always counted Special Purchases like books or clothes as kind of coming out of my food budget? like, "I went to the used bookstore this week, so next week I won't buy coffee" or something. this is probably an inhuman approach. but it worked better than setting an imaginary dollar limit on how much I could spend on...miscellaneous...because miscellaneous is really hard to predict.

the one year of my life that I consistently spent money on Experiences, I had to call home and ask my dad for money because I ran out, so I have no advice there :( I am too poor for experiences

I said it would be unhelpful and it probably was!!! sorry!!!!!!

#asks

[redhandedjournals]

Journal Entry #1

October 15, 2022

I am currently starting my journal here with a journal page. I am hoping it will help to get some things off my chest and be a safe haven for me to express myself. I find I can't talk to many people and don't much want to bother people with everything that weights on my mind.

This year has been a tough one for me. I almost lost my life to suicide twice. I am still not sure how to feel about being alive. I feel like my soul died when I almost did. I didn't expect to come back from it, yet here I am. I found out last year my dreams of becoming a funeral director were a no go as I have an adult record from assault from spitting on nurses when I was intoxicated, as well as from when I was put on psychiatric medication that didn't agree with me and I choked a nurse. I could get a lawyer and try and fight it, but I don't have the money or the patience to deal with a court battle that could just smash my hopes even more. I still have the gift of writing though. My main goal in my life was to make double what my parents make in a year, and to be able to travel the world viewing different grave sites like Edgar Allan Poe's burial site, odd cemeteries along the way, ghost tours, art and history muesums, see the beach, and go on a real vacation. One I have never gotten to have. I wanted to do it all with someone I love beside me, and while I have that special person now in my life and I am so blessed to have them, I can't afford to do any of these things as I am not a funeral director, I am disabled mentally and physically right now and can't work, and I just over all feel like I can't contribute to society nor will I ever be able to do the things my soul has longed for my entire life. It comes as a huge loss to me. I am still grieving this loss as it is huge for me. The death of my dreams. I want to try and be positive and say things could change and I may still be able to do these things, but I just don't see a light at the end of the tunnel. All my life I have craved adventure, but have spent it taking care of elderly family, children, cleaning other people's houses, volunterring, most of my life has been confined to a home or a hospital and I just want more for myself.

I always have been one to write poetry and it has brought me peace through out the years. It is a form of self expression for me when I can't get out what I want to say. Many people have said I had a way with words over the years and I got some good feedback in my writing classes at college, so I cling to the hope that maybe they were not lying, and I really can write. Lately I've been working on a memoir about my life and I am hoping it will help me grieve as I have never grieved the loss of anything or anyone in my life. My family would never allow me too. I was always their rock and support in their time of need. Writing has always been there for me when no one else was there, and it is something I can only get better at and people can't take away from me--- a lot of things have been taken away from me this year: pets, places, comfort items, and people (both living and now passed).

My aunt passed away October 11th 2022. She was a special person to me and a huge part of my support network. I still try and wrap my head around her death and wait for the coroner to tell my family the results of the toxicology. I want to know how she died, so I can be at peace in my mind and it will stop trying to ask all the same questions over and over. I just want to know how she passed. She always told me to be careful, but why wasn't she? I am a little angry with my family right now. I have had to set some major boundaries here as of lately and it hasn't been an easy thing to do. It makes me uncomfortable but at the same time I feel a sense of relief that I don't have to carry my heavy load anymore. I've been carrying so much for so many years. It is time to let that baggage go, be freely who I am, like me or don't, and live my life for me, my fiance, and our two special pets Betty white (my dog) and Puddin J. (my cat).

I still hear the voices in my head telling me not to eat. I struggle with them because somebody in my head feels like giving up completley, but I guess that is what happens when you open a pandora's box and grieve too many things at once. My stomach is in knots. My family is at my aunt's wedding and everyone is at each other's throats. I am so glad I couldn't make it due to mental health reasons but I know I could not handle it, but at least I told my aunt to her face.

I've been having a lot of memories flood in of the time I spent with my abusive ex and being locked in the closet. I really just wanted to be loved and a way out of my situation. I finally have that now and I am working through my past in a Vampire Novel. I am still trying to peace together.

The voices in my head have been more quiet lately. I just think everyone is tired of everything and everyone. I feel like I need to be alone, but at the same time alone is all I have felt for years. Is it really something I want to feel? Or am I just wanting to push everyone away because I don't want to get too close. I just wish the World would stop or something. I hear the voices in my head tell me "don't write, you're not good enough" but then I have had many people tell me that I have inspired them and that feels good.

currently money is the biggest issue. I don't feel like my writing will ever be good enough to sell a lot of copies, even after I finish my education. Will I ever be satisfied with just being a writer? Most writers aren't famous until after their death anyways. I just know I want to make a difference in this World. Will my writing do that? I don't know. I guess I can always try. I am going to dedicate my books to my grandma and grandpa, aunt who passed away, and to my fiance. All of them are my biggest supporters. I am thankful I have been blessed to have them in my life's.

I think that is it for now. I will write more later. Off to clean, as always.

-redhanded.

#journal #diary entry #dear diary #online diary

[caitykat]

Making Friends while "Adulting"

Making friends as an adult is freaking HARD. I've found that it's much easier to reclaim friends from earlier, (or manage to never lose them in the first place)

My current friend group is very divided by what activity we do together- soccer, running, work- and for the most part our interactions are limited to the activity itself. We don't really invite each over for game nights or to go see a movie. I guess you can call them more acquaintances, then friends. Part of it is my fault, I acknowledge. I could try harder to interact and go out, But I don't really have that much money for going out for drinks and I'm not super comfortable inviting people to my apartment. Those are my justifications to myself, at least.*

I've been incredibly lucky this past summer. My Best Friend from high school has been here to hang out with.

But, BFF is leaving to go back to school... she was in town to do research for her dissertation. Now, she's done and she's got to go back to her classes, and compiling research, and TA-ing and her boyfriend, and life in general.

It's been nice to see her so regularly. It's the first time we have been in the same city for over a month since we graduated high school. Regardless, we chat and write and make trips to see each other regularly. So, even 10 years later, our relationship is still going strong. It's comforting.

The two of us will be crazy old cat ladies cackling about our stories in rocking chairs on the porch some nursing home when we are 100 together.

On the other hand, my other friend and I haven't spoken since sophomore year of college.

I didn't attend a university in or anywhere near my high school friends. I ended up falling out of touch with just about all of them. Not from lack of trying, but the drama we avoided in high school all seem to have exploded in college. I saw the group collapse from a distance. Some stayed in contact, but it petered off as life moved on and different experience started stacking up. BFF is the only one I managed to really keep up with.

Other Friend went abroad our junior year, and contact dried up. Since then, she has graduated, moved back home, spent time in China teaching English, changed her phone number, come back home and worked here ever since.

I never knew. I've been back home since I graduated. We've been in the same city for 4+ years, and never realized it.

Back in May, she ended up with tickets to some event and a friend who bailed on her, so she apparently reached out to BFF whose phone number she still, miraculously, had. BFF, bemused, informed her that she was in grad school and lived in a different state, but that she would be back home for the summer.

They end up hanging out. Other Friend tells BFF about all of her life and job and what-not and they catch up. BFF decides that Other Friend and I are in similar states of life (same work industry- that we kind of want to get out of) and therefore MUST reconnect.

We got sushi and had drinks at my place the other night.

It was nice. Highly amusing to hear how similar we are, even if our interests are wildly different. Other Friend kept joking how we are actually the same person. I'm not sure if I agree completely, but we do have similar approaches to stuff.

I'm happy we've caught up. Maybe we'll manage to stay in touch and I'll have a local friend I can depend on to hang out with regularly.

Next step is to turn my activity friends/acquaintances into real friends. Maybe I can host some for a potluck or game night... Football season's starting up soon too...

*(I spend a LOT of time hanging out with my Mom, actually. We have a great relationship and similar interests. Plus, we live in the same city. She's the easiest person for me to invite to do stuff. And Sometimes she'll pay.)

#adulting is hard #friends #what are friends #adulting #making friends #BFF #Other Friend #Best Friend from High School #Best Friend #reconnecting #mom #mom- daughter bonding

[ayanagiann]

4 December 2023

As the days have gotten colder, my apartment has naturally gotten cozier. For what feels like the first time since moving here, it really does feel like it's the holidays in my space. And it's not even that I've gone all out with the decorations (aside from the 8/9ft Christmas tree near the window, haha) it's just.. the feeling. There are so many little moments and corners that I've come to enjoy. Something about being surrounded by thoughtfully curated vignettes that makes me feel right at home. This space is sacred, personal, and filled with so much love from the (almost) 4 years that I've lived here.

This has been the year that I've collectively spent the most time in this apartment -- I'm realizing it's a similar vibe to the senior year I spent in the Berkeley house, single & during the peak of covid. There was no where else I had to be, no splitting my time between my place and a partner's, full free range and free time to decorate & re-decorate my home the way I want.

I woke up this morning and I could feel it. This isn't just a unit I'm renting out for awhile. This has evolved into my most ultimate sanctuary to date. This is my home. I can pick up random books and artifacts, point out random pieces and objects, and recall the memories of when I got them and where they came from. I can look around and see the history of my adult life collected in one place. Some would call this incredibly mundane but to me? It feels like a milestone. There's something genuinely empowering in the ability to have a place that you can call your own.

Every now and then it hits me that there will come a time where I won't live here anymore. To my core I know I was never meant to be here forever. I take in the fresh air from my fire escape, soak in the sun from my windows, enjoy the peaceful sounds from the gardens outside. It's my pocket of heaven in what some consider a quintessential "city" neighborhood, and a set up that I'll never be able to replicate after I leave.

I think about my future self, how I hope she'd look back on my time here.. money spent here... and reassure me that it was all worth it. That she'd remember this place and attribute it to some of the most formative and beautiful years of my life.

They say that your home should look and feel like an extension of who you are. That it's not about the price of things or the quantity of how much you have, but about the richness in character and authenticity in what you choose to put there. I look at my space and I see someone who loves comfort, simplicity, balance... art, travel, literature... music, fashion, and giving new life to old things. I see someone who doesn't keep anything unless it serves a purpose, who's intentional and patient with the process of curating a home.

I'm looking around at all the things that I've earned the right to call mine and I'm making it a point to once again, be grateful. Because if I'm being completely honest, I think it's too easy for people to take the nice things they have for granted. What I have here is at the very least, a nice thing. A place that turned out better than my younger self could've ever imagined, a place that my current self feels so lucky to have now, a place that I am proud to call my home.

[casspurrjoybell-25]

ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS - Chapter 9

*Warning Adult Content*

- Dylan -

Two days later, the snow was still falling.

Dylan knew there was no way Jayce would be able to get back to a trailhead by himself, even if he took Jayce back to the main trail.

Jayce didn't have the experience or the proper equipment to travel through this much snow.

He would have to lead Jayce out of here, all the way back to the road, and give him a ride back into town or arrange to have someone pick Jayce up.

He hadn't planned on leaving the cabin until it was time for him to go back to Winthrop for the winter, but it couldn't be avoided now.

The past few days had been spent splitting enough wood to last him for the rest of his time up here.

He enjoyed the work and it kept him warm but it was hell on his hands.

After years of manual labor, his hands tended to get stiff and ache to the point where they were throbbing.

Today was one of those days.

He went inside the cabin and started to boil water in the kettle.

Resting and drinking tea would help some.

He flexed his hands, trying to stretch them out and he didn't even realize he was grimacing until Jayce piped up from where he was sitting on the bed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. My hands get stiff once in a while. If I rest them, they'll be fine."

"Come here," Jayce said, patting the bed beside him.

He and Jayce had settled into a comfortable existence in the cabin, with him working on his knitting and Jayce making his way through the romance book.

He was less wary of Jayce now, especially after Jayce had been kind about his knitting and romance reading secrets.

He sat next to Jayce, unsure of what Jayce wanted.

Jayce reached over and took one of his hands, bringing it over to his lap.

With long, firm strokes, Jayce began massaging Dylan's hand. 

"This should help."

And it did help.

The aching began to fade, especially in the palm of his hand where Jayce's thumb made small circles.

To his embarrassment, Dylan felt his eyes well up with tears and he stared at the floor, willing them away and hoping Jayce wouldn't see.

No one had ever touched him like this, a kind touch, meant to comfort him and help him stop hurting.

He was so overcome by the gesture that he had to wait until his breathing leveled out and his throat wasn't too tight before he trusted himself to speak.

"Thank you," he said, his voice low and rough. "It is helping."

Jayce grabbed his other hand and repeated the process, taking just as much time and care as he had with the first one.

"Are you going to be able to knit or do you have to take a break from that?"

"I'll probably take a day off."

"Maybe I can do some of the chores. My hand is almost better and I'm going to finish the book today."

Dylan nodded.

"Okay. The snow is lasting longer than I thought. It might be a few more days before I'm able to take you back to the road. I know you need to get home but it's not safe yet."

Jayce gave his hand one final rub before he stood up.

"I don't really need to get home. I put all my stuff in storage and haven't found a new job or place to live yet, so there's nothing to get back to. This has turned out to be a nice vacation from everything, in a way. Once I realized I wasn't going to die, it was easy to relax."

"You don't mind staying?"

"Not anymore. I am starting to get restless though. Is there something active I can do for a while?"

Dylan looked out the window.

"I'm going to go for a walk once the snow settles. Do you want to come with me?"

"I'd like that."

"It'll be good practice for when we hike out of here. We'll have to snowshoe."

"I've never done that," Jayce said, looking at Dylan with wide eyes.

"I have an extra pair. I'll teach you."

- Jayce -

A couple hours later, Jayce was staring down at his feet.

Snowshoes were weird and bulky and awkward.

He didn't understand how he was supposed to walk in them.

Dylan had to help him put them on and get his boots strapped in but at least this time Dylan was patient about his lack of knowledge.

Dylan walked back over to the cabin, seeming to easily float across the snow.

He had two long sticks in his hand.

"You can use these as hiking poles. You should have had some in the first place when you backpacked out here but sticks will work for now."

"What do I do with them?"

"They'll help you balance."

Jayce took a stick in each hand.

Once he had them planted firmly into the snow, he tried to take a step forward.

He promptly caught one snowshoe on the other, stumbled and fell into the snow.

He looked up, expecting to see Dylan laughing at him but Dylan stayed quiet as he helped Jayce up.

"That's less likely to happen if you lift up your foot and then get that shoe out in front of the other."

Dylan demonstrated walking in his snowshoes and after a few more attempts by Jayce and some tips from Dylan, Jayce was walking slowly.

"These really do keep me from sinking all the way into the snow," he said, smiling as he glanced over at Dylan. "Where are we going? And how far?"

"Not too far today since it's your first time. We'll stick to the trail I take a daily walk on."

"Did you make this trail?" Jayce asked, as he followed along behind Dylan.

"Yes."

He sensed that Dylan didn't want to talk a lot, so he kept most of his comments to himself and only asked questions if it seemed necessary.

The landscape was gorgeous.

Snow covered everything, weighing down the branches of the trees and blanketing the ground in a stark white, fluffy layer.

It was truly a winter wonderland.

It was also hard work.

He wasn't used to the weight of the snowshoes and walking in them changed his gait enough that he had to concentrate on each step.

He still fell every once in a while and it didn't take long before he was sweating.

It was more of a workout than he'd bargained for and he was grateful when Dylan looped them back around to the cabin.

"That was beautiful," he said to Dylan. "Thank you for taking me with you, even though I'm sure I slowed you down."

"Would you do it again?" Dylan asked.

"I would. It's awkward but I think I'll get used to the snowshoes if I keep practicing."

He bent down to unfasten the buckles keeping his boots in the snowshoes.

When he stepped out of them, he noticed Dylan struggling to get his own buckles undone.

The poor guy's hands must be hurting him again.

"Let me practice," he said, stepping over to Dylan and bending down. "I want to make sure I know how to put these on and take them off without you helping me."

He figured that if he pretended he wanted to learn, he didn't have to call attention to Dylan's stiff hands.

Dylan didn't seem like he'd appreciate being seen as weak or injured or needing help.

"You got yours off quickly," Dylan said.

"Yeah but I'm sure it'll be a struggle to get them on the next time we do this."

Once Dylan stepped out of the snowshoes, Jayce picked both pairs up and carried them into the cabin.

"I need a bath after that. It was a great workout but now my clothes are sweaty. And actually, all my clothes are dirty. What do you do when you need to wash your clothes?"

"Wash them outside using the same bucket for taking a bath. But it will take them a while to dry by the fire."

Jayce frowned.

"I don't have anything to wear while they're drying."

"I'll figure something out."

It took a while for Jayce to wash his clothes in the bucket and he was shivering by the time he was finished.

Standing in the snow in only a towel was not warm or comfortable.

He didn't know how Dylan did this without freezing.

Inside the cabin, he hung his damp clothes from the chair.

When he turned around, Dylan held out one of his flannel shirts, the sleeves ready for Jayce to slip his arms into.

He did and then he pulled the shirt tightly around his chest, trying to cover as much of his skin as he could.

Since it was one of Dylan's shirts, it was huge on him.

"Thank you. Although, if you're going to give me pants, I think they're going to fall right off me."

"These have a drawstring," Dylan replied, handing him a pair of pajama pants and then turning around.

He had to pull the drawstring tight, bunching up the waistband of the pants but it worked.

He rolled up the bottoms of the pants and the sleeves on the shirt.

He was sure he looked ridiculous but he was grateful for the clothes.

Dylan had dinner ready for them and they ate in silence.

Jayce wouldn't call himself an extrovert but he preferred talking when he was with another person.

Even so, he was getting used to Dylan's quiet way of living.

After dinner, he helped Dylan clean up around the cabin.

Since Jayce's damp clothes were covering the only chair, Dylan joined him on the bed.

They sat a couple feet apart and Jayce finished the romance book while Dylan read his environmental disaster book.

When he got to the end of the book, he was struggling to keep his eyes open and he drifted off to sleep as soon as he set the book down.

In the middle of the night, Jayce became aware that something didn't feel normal.

He realized he was sleeping on his left side.

He never slept on his left side.

He shifted and rolled over, immediately running into something solid in the bed.

In his dazed, half asleep state, he felt another man in the bed with him.

He missed snuggling up to another man at night, so without thinking, he pressed himself against the large body, wrapping his arms around it and hooking one of his legs around the other man's leg.

This felt much better and he fell asleep again as he held the other body tightly.

- Dylan -

He woke sometime in the night, more warm than usual,and with the vague feeling that something was wrapped around his leg.

It took him a second to realize it was Jayce.

He felt warm breath on the back of his neck and when he looked down, he saw Jayce's leg on top of his.

Jayce's arm had wound around him, holding him tightly and gripping one of his pecs.

He closed his eyes.

No one had ever held him before.

As early as he could remember, his parents left him to fend for himself.

His mom was too busy smoking and cackling at whatever was on TV and his dad only spoke to him to demand Dylan bring him another beer.

They didn't hug him or pay him much attention at all, which he learned to be thankful for.

Attention tended to be a negative thing and it usually ended with him being hit.

 A wave of sadness crept over him when he realized this would all be over in the morning.

He did his best to memorize the feel of another body around his own of Jayce's thigh pressed against his leg and Jayce's hand on his chest. 

It might be the first and last time in his life that he ever experienced affection like this. 

[lunarvalleysbetterplanet]

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. Winter is my favorite time of year, despite living in Florida where it barely even drops below 60 degrees. I've always found all the lights and the music very comforting. My favorite Christmas movie (Elf) and hot cider with twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. Family dinners with kids running around. Sitting around a bonfire laughing with friends and drinking wine. Even Christmas eve service added to that sense of holiday joy. Singing Christmas carols and holding a candle. It wasn't necessarily the religious aspect that gave me joy, but more the community of it.

I spent from the time I was around 8 years old until 18 heavily involved in church. Then, it was much sporadic. I'd go through religious phases that would last a few months before I'd give up and return to my actual self. In July of last year, I fell into one of those spirals and for some reason, it was much worse than usual. It lasted an entire year for starters. I joined a reformed Christian church, got re-baptized (for the first time as an adult, third overall) and just fully jumped into living the most pious, devout lifestyle I could. It took a full blown mental breakdown to snap me out of it.

Christmas during this time last year was easier than ever. I was more palatable and tolerable for most of my family. I was forcing myself to agree with whatever the Bible said, including what it says about women. I spent a lot of effort trying to force myself into the ideal version of a woman. Softer, gentler, less passionate and less sarcastic. I tried carving out all of my queerness. I lost everything that makes me lovely. I was reading the Bible for literally hours and hours a day. I wouldn't listen to "secular music" and I basically stopped engaging any media that wasn't Bible approved. I went to small group, bible studies and ladies events. I served in Children's ministry. I was busier and more social than I've been in years.

And I was numb. I was disassociated because I didn't want to face that I was depressed and miserable. I gained a lot of weight. I nearly ruined the relationships with my sister and best friend who were watching me turn into a person I would have hated. But god, Christmas was easy. No arguments over politics or me being too much. My family was overjoyed to see me back in church.

Fast forward to June of this year. I have my first of three mental breakdowns. Things had not been good since like January. I was struggling and taking that as a sign I was being #theverybestchristian because the Bible says we are supposed to suffer for Christ afterall. I struggled and struggled. Cried constantly. Prayed till I was blue in the face. Upped my daily Bible reading. Until I had one second where I was sitting in my house and I looked around and said audibly to myself "What the fuck have I done? Who am I?"

And after that mental breakdown, I tried to plod on. I'd done irreparable damage to my ability to pretend I was happy or that things were okay. July I have another minor breakdown. Then August I have the big one. I am nearly unfunctional in my mental breakdown. It's triggered by me googling about spiritual drought. I start to google why I would be having these religious phases. I know it's over now. I come across a tweet and it rocks my entire world.

It had literally never crossed my mind that others go through this. I realize I do have a ton of religious trauma. I text my therapist and start going regularly again. I deconstruct, fully and actually work through why I was so afraid of hell. Why I believe what I believe. I deconvert. I realize I will no longer be a Christian. Not even a backslidden 'I'm not dealing with this but I'll come home later' one. I won't have the crutch of prayer.

Now, I am clearly dealing with some shit. My depression is raging. My house is a disaster. I've pulled away from my family because I know how they are going to take this. (They do not take it well)

I am not okay. I am working on healing. But, for once in my fucking life and I am letting myself actually work through all my trauma. I skipped Thanksgiving. Sat alone and got high. Ordered Chinese and cried, a lot. I won't miss Christmas because I love it. I have always loved it. It's gonna hurt like a motherfucker though. The soul aching loneliness that I am dealing with both from the loss of religion and the fact that I am alone. I have very few friends, no romantic prospects and being with my family is so complicated. I am so lonely it hurts physically in my chest. I find myself crying quite frequently. I am leaning into this.

I put on my 'Make the Yuletide Gay' playlist and make hot chocolate. I read holiday themed fan fiction and cry. I will go look at lights, the only single person amongst my family. I'll put up my sad little artificial tree and watch Elf with my cat. I am getting better. I won't lose the genuine love I have for this time of year.

#tw for religious trauma #tw for depression #//personal//

[trans-cuchulainn]

ahhhhhh i’m just so stressed about the whole... state of the world situation. at least when i lived alone i could go full hermit and batten down the hatches and never go out / see anyone but now i live with Other People and i don’t control what the household does or who comes here. and don’t get me wrong, nobody here is being irresponsible, they’re all testing and masking and stuff, but it’s still not my call whether relatives come for christmas etc, so i cannot go as hermit as i would like to and i’m stressed >:(

this is the least control over my living situation that i’ve had since the start of the pandemic and i think that makes me a lot more scared than any of the previous waves have, plus the general sense of stress and loss of control over my life (e.g. i don’t do the food shopping so i don’t have as much power over my meals, what food is in the house, that kind of thing, and the scrutiny of what time of day i’m awake doesn’t make me more diurnal it just makes me stressed about being nocturnal)

hngh i gotta move out but how and where

#plagueblogging #really hoping that interview in january works out for me #since it would DEFINITELY enable me to move #it's not a case of 'and then i could possibly move out' #it's 'if i get that role i WILL be moving out' #also because i just don't know how much i'll enjoy living at home in the immediate post-top surgery recovery period #like sure it'll be helpful to have help but my dad is so anti- the whole thing i feel like it'll be really pass-agg the whole time #i would quite honestly rather deal with the pain of doing things on my own or the embarrassment of asking flatmates #my mum told me she hasn't even told him the surgery date yet so like. i can't bring it up in case it surprises him and makes drama #ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #he has used the correct pronouns for me twice this week which is more than zero #but has still used the wrong ones more times than that so you know the progress is very slow #anyway i hate living at home!!! god i wish my day job paid me more!!! #fingers crossed i get that extra contract next year that'll boost my earnings above poverty level #being kind of freelance is so unpredictable in terms of salary -_- #also don't get me wrong i love my parents and stuff #i just don't like living with them #i am too old to be able to deal with the loss of independence #i've spent too much time living as an adult to be comfortable coming home #personal #WOW tag rant sorry

[ssadumba55]

Love Finds A Way (Ian Malcolm X Reader)

Request: Hello!! I love your Ian malcolm x reader so far and I was just wondering if you could do another one (either set in the first or second movie) where ian and the reader get separated and it freaks Ian out until they find each other again and ian decides to confess his feelings maybe? Thanks!

A/N: Let's go! I've never written anything set in the first movie but that movie moves a lot faster so forgive me cutting through to get to the good bits. I spared you every dinosaur chase scene, you're welcome. Enjoy!

This trip was a mistake, you realized that now covered in mud and sitting in a tree.

Come along, Ian had suggested, it’ll be fun. It wasn’t fun now, you’d be sure to remind him of that… if you ever saw him again. Even though you had wanted to stay behind with Ian, Alan had convinced you to join him and the kids.

Now, the other three were getting some shuteye. How they could sleep with all of this around them, you would never know. You watched the Brachiosaurs eat from the safety of your vantage point. All the joy and wonder you had felt earlier on the tour was now gone, replaced with a feeling of dread deep in the pit of your stomach.

There was no way you were getting out of this alive, even with the help of the amazing Dr. Alan Grant. You had never been a fearless fighter or particularly intelligent.

“You’re still awake?” Dr. Grant asked softly. You had thought he was asleep but it appeared he’d just been resting eyes. He didn’t even look like the man you’d met earlier that day, each of his arms wrapped around one of the children he had despised.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m worried about Dr. Malcolm, that’s all.”

It was a fair worry, he was your friend and mentor. The two of you had spent a lot of time together both in the workplace and out. You liked to think there was an inseparable bond between the two of you, something that rarely anyone else had. No matter how many wives or girlfriends he went through, what was between you both would never change.

“He’s fine. As long as he stays still, even if the T. Rex circles back, he’ll live.”

Realistically, you knew he was right but still. Nobody but the four of you knew where he was and you had no idea how to get to the others. Worst vacation ever, Ian owed you one if the two of you got off this stinking island alive.

Meanwhile, Dr. Ian Malcolm was in a panic himself. His leg was in pain, but it was dull compared to his worry for you. Now that he wasn’t being chased by a giant meat eating dinosaur, he could think properly and he had noticed your absence.

There were two options; you were laying out there dead somewhere (which he hated to think about, that couldn’t be the one) or you were wherever Dr. Grant and Hammond’s grandchildren were.

“We should be out there looking for them,” he tried to shift but his leg was in worse shape than he thought. Ellie hurried forward, scolding him for moving and putting himself in pain. She was obviously worried for Alan as well, they had issues, the two of them.

Was being in love with a workplace friend a common occurrence because it seemed like they were in the exact same department and- Oh god, if you and Alan died they would never get to tell them. More importantly he would never get to tell you.

At some point, Gennaro and Ellie leave to go look for Arnold, leaving him and Hammond to guide them to where they needed to go. He tried to keep his head in the game as much as possible, his survival and the others depended on it but he was too worried about you.

This had to be some sick twisted joke the universe had decided to play on him, he didn’t tell the one he loved he loved them when he had the chance, he fooled around with so many people... and this was his sick and twisted comeuppance.

He supposed if that was what was going on he deserved it, but damn it if he didn’t wish his leg was better so he could be out there looking for you.

How many adults did it take to hold a door shut against one Velociraptor? Apparently, three. You, Alan and Ellie leaned against the door, trying your best to keep it shut while Lex and Tim figured out the computer system.

“This is where we die,” you muttered under your breath as Ellie tried desperately to reach for the shotgun that was just out of her grasp.

“You did it!” Tim shouted and just like that the locks were on the doors.

The relief was short lived, but such is life when you’re on a dinosaur infested island. The five of you escaped through the vents, making your way back to the main entrance of the visitors building. It was a race against time (and Velociraptors), but in the end, you all made it safely back to the ground and the T. Rex took care of the raptors.

“Come on,” Alan ushered the kids, you and Ellie out the front door. You felt like you were going to pass out just from the adrenaline. Hammond and Ian were waiting outside in the jeep but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to either of them as you climbed in. Alan said something but you leaned back in the jeep seat, releasing a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding.

You weren’t home safe yet but it sure felt like it.

After that, everything was a blur. The helicopter ride home was silent, everyone contemplating everything they had just witnessed on the island. For once, even the great Ian Malcolm had nothing to say.

You leaned against him and he let you, clearly just as happy as you were to be in the same vicinity once again.

Upon landing in Costa Rica, the group went their separate ways. Hammond went off with his grandchildren, Ellie needed medical care and Alan went with her, Ian needed his own care so you went with him. You wondered if you’d ever get to see those people again. It was a strange thing to bond over, but you felt like you were all that much closer now that you’d been through this together.

Ian was out for a while so you pulled up a chair and slept beside the hospital bed.

“(Y/n)?” You awoke to someone saying your name, visions of giant lizard monsters danced in your vision for a few moments longer as you blinked awake.

You would surely be having nightmares of that for a long time.

Ian was awake, he had shifted himself into a sitting position, his hand on yours. You met his eyes, there was a lot that needed to be said. You wanted to tell him everything that had happened, with Alan and the kids and the raptors and-

You hugged him instead, it was strange, even though the two of you were fairly close, neither of you had ever been huge fans of physical contact.

He hugged you back though.

“That was the worst vacation ever…” You whispered, pulling away slightly to look into his eyes.

He chuckled. “Next time you can pick, no more dinosaur islands. I promise.”

You suddenly became aware of the very little space between the two of you. This was the closest the two of you had ever been in a non joking manner. It felt like being separated from each other on a dinosaur infested island had changed something in your dynamic, though you weren’t sure what it was. The smile on his face faded slightly and he reached up, closing the distance between the two of you, hand gently pressed to your cheek.

That’s what it was. The dynamic between you two had DEFINITELY changed.

“I’ve, uh, always wanted to do that.” He sounded slightly guilty, pulling away.

There were butterflies in your stomach and somehow the world seemed to be spinning. You laughed nervously, something about experiencing this so soon after a near death experience was hilarious to you.

"Funnily enough, me too," you admit, pressing your forehead to his. It's really too soon to know what this really means or if this is all just a crazy reaction to being separated and not able to see each other but you don't even care.

You could put a label on it later, he would agree. For now the two of you had each other and you were never letting go. And if Ian asked you to sleep with him later that night and if the two of you awoke each other from nightmares screaming only to comfort each other, nobody else needed to know.

You'd always had a special bond. This just made it stronger.

#jurassic world imagine #jurassic park imagine #jurassic park x reader #ian malcolm x reader #ian malcolm imagine